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SAME  BOAT 


WILLIAM  H.  FISHBURN 


(Price  Ten  Cents) 


All  in  The  Same  Boat 


By 
REV.  WILLIAM'  H.  FISH  BURN.  D.D. 


A   Sermon  Delivered  in  West  Adams  Presbyterian 

Church,  Los  Angeles,   California, 

June  9,  1918 


F57SV7 
[ff3 


Published  by  order  of  the  Session. 


^ 


All  In  The  Same  Bo^t 


Acts  27:30-31:;  fh&siitdSri  \y  ere  ^  about 
to  flee  out  of  tfie*  snip;  'ivlien0'  '  /  ,J  ?  *J 
Paul     said       .       .       .       Except      these 
abide   in   the   ship,   ye   cannot  be   saved. 

I  like  this  Captain  Julius  in  our  Scripture 
lesson.  I  can  hear  his  voice  ringing  above  the 
tumult  of  the  Mediterranean  storm : — "Back 
to  the  decks !  Back  to  the  decks,  every  man  of 
you !  You  ensign,  there, — you  with  the  sword, 
— cut  that  rope !  Cast  that  life-boat  loose ! 
Let  no  man  leave  this  ship !" 

It  happened  in  the  dark,  you  know.  The 
sailors  mutinied.  They  stole  the  life  boat. 
They  were  in  the  act  of  lowering  it  into  the 
sea  when  they  were  apprehended.  They  were 
going  to  be  saved  no  matter  who  else  perished. 
Every  man  for  himself!  What  cared  they  for 
the  soldiers  and  the  prisoners  on  board,  so 
long  as  they  saved  their  own  skins? 

And  then  Captain  Julius  intervened : — "Set 
that  life-boat  adrift!  Back  to  your  posts,  ev- 
ery sneaking,  shirking,  skulking  man  of  you ! 
If  this  ship  ride  the  storm,  all  of  us  shall  be 
saved  together !  If  she  go  to  the  bottom,  all 
of  us  shall  take  the  death-plunge  together !  We 
are  all  in  the  same  boat,  and  in  the  same  boat 
all  shall  remain!" 

If  you  care  to  do  it  you  may  turn  this  fine 
sea  story  into  a  parable.  The  storm  is  the 
Great  War.  So  far  as  we,  personally,  are  con- 
cerned, the  ship  that  is  carrying  us  through 
the  storm  is  the  United  States. 

None  of  us  may  desert  the  ship.  We  are  all 
weathering  the  same  storm ;  we  are  all  bound 
for  the  same  destination.    If  the  good  ship  win 

453178    3 


through,  it  will  be  well  with  us  all ;  if  the  good 
ship  go  down,  woe  to  lis  all!  We  are  all  in 
the  same  boat. 

If  we  stand,  we  all  stand  together ;  if  we  fall, 
we  aH  fall 'together.  We  are  all  in  the  same 
boat.  We  are  all  doing  the  same  thing  just 
now, — that  is,  all  loyal  people  are  doing  the 
same  thing.  Are  you  buying  Liberty  Bonds? 
So  is  everybody  else. 

Are  you  collecting  Thrift  Stamps?  Pur- 
chasing War-saving  Stamps?  So  is  everybody 
else  that  has  money.  Are  you  giving  your 
boys  to  the  nation?  So  is  every  home  that  has 
a  boy  that  measures  up  to  the  standards.  Are 
you  denying  yourself  of  the  foods  you  like? 
Are  you  opening  your  hand  wide  to  the  appeals 
of  the  Red  Cross,  of  the  Y.  M.  C.  A.,  of  the 
Y.  W.  C.  A.,  of  the  K.  of  C?  Are  you  knitting? 
Are  you  sewing?  Are  you  rolling  bandages? 
Are  you  making  sacrifices?  Are  you  doing 
your  bit?  So  is  everybody  else.  We  are  all 
in  the  same  boat. 

United  we  stand,  divided  we  fall.  Never 
before  did  the  whole  nation  do  team-work  as  it 
is  doing  team-work  today.  Nobody  is  exempt. 
Nobody  can  get  away  from  the  boat.  The 
humblest  is  needed  as  well  as  the  loftiest.  Ev- 
erybody who  does  his  best  is  of  importance. 

Nobody  can  tell  just  now  who  is  of  most 
importance.  Each  of  us  has  his  place.  No  one 
can  claim  to  be  of  more  worth  than  his  neigh- 
bor. We  are  all  of  worth.  Mr.  Andrew  Car- 
negie asked  in  one  of  his  essays :  "Which  is 
the  most  important  leg  on  a  three-legged 
stool?"  In  the  affairs  of  the  nation  just  now 
every  person  is  important.  You  are  import- 
ant, and  you,  and  you.  We  are  all  in  the  same 
boat. 

In  your  own  domestic  life,  which  member 
of  the  family  is  of  most  importance?  In  a 
4 


great  many  homes  the  father  feels  himself  to 
be  vastly  the  most  important. 

When  father  comes  home  in  the  evening, 
let  the  wife  be  restrained  and  quiet.  Let  the 
children  go  on  tip-toes.  Father  has  earned  the 
bread  on  the  table  in  the  sweat  of  his  face. 
Bring  father  his  slippers.  Don't  stir  father 
up.  "I  am  Sir  Oracle,  and  when  I  open  my 
lips  let  no  dog  bark."  Make  it  comfortable 
for  father;  no  difference  about  mother  and  the 
children. 

The  self-important  man  is  unaware  that  the 
mother  who  makes  his  house  a  home,  that  the 
little  girl  with  her  dolls,  that  the  small  boy 
in  knickerbockers,  that  the  wee  baby  asleep  in 
the  crib,  each  is,  in  the  eyes  of  our  Lord,  of 
just  as  much  importance  as  he  is.  They  are  all 
in  the  same  boat. 

There  are  many  persons  in  this  beloved 
country  who  seem  to  be  quite  oblivious  to  the 
fact  that  our  Ship  of  State  is  battling  its  way 
through  a  great  storm.  They  have  not  awak- 
ened to  the  knowledge  that  this  nation  is  at 
war,  that  it  is  a  partner,  with  a  score  of  other 
nations,  in  the  prosecution  of  the  most  stu- 
pendous war  that  ever  shook  this  planet  since 
the  beginning  of  human  time. 

But  God  in  His  compassion  is  awakening 
these  people  who  are  asleep,  is  awakening  all 
of  us,  to  the  fact  that  we  are  at  war.  One  week 
ago  the  War  set  its  Red  Foot  on  our  door- 
step, and  put  out  its  Finger  and  rang  our  door- 
bell ! 

The  raid  on  American  shipping  along  our 
Eastern  coast  has  startled  us  out  of  our  slum- 
ber.   The  Enemy  is  at  our  gates ! 

And  some  of  our  citizens,  for  the  first  time, 
are  becoming  aware  that  this  war  against  Ger- 
many   does    not    concern    only    Canada,    and 
France  and   England   and    Belgium   and   Italy 
5 


and  other  European  nations,  but  that  it  con- 
cerns us,  us  of  America,  and  that  our  destinies 
are  bound  up  with  the  destinies  of  Canada  and 
of  the  allied  nations  of  Europe,  and  that, 
whether  we  call  them  our  allies  or  not,  we  are 
all  in  the  same  boat. 

Not  yet  have  we  heard  in  America  the 
"bombs  bursting  in  air"  over  New  York  City 
and  Philadelphia  and  Chicago  and  Los  An- 
geles and  San  Francisco  and  the  other  popu- 
lous centers,  as  they  are  hearing  them  in  Eu- 
rope, and  we  pray  our  heavenly  Father  morn- 
ing, noon  and  night  that  we  may  never  hear 
them.  Not  yet  have  the  majority  of  our  Amer- 
ican homes  been  darkened  by  the  great  sor- 
row of  remembering  one  son  or  two  sons  or 
three  sons  who  have  gone  down  into  the  Val- 
ley of  the  Great  Shadow,  and  we  pray  our 
Heavenly  Father  morning,  noon  and  night 
that  that  sorrow  may  not  fall  upon  our  homes 
as  it  has  fallen  upon  the  homes  of  Canada  and 
of  Europe. 

We  are  at  war  against  an  alliance  of  fiends, 
an  alliance  of  Darkness ;  an  alliance  that 
counts  not  the  lives  of  its  own  men  dear;  an 
alliance  that  would,  if  it  could,  turn  this  whole 
earth  into  a  huge  slaughter  house  in  order  to 
make  itself  the  world  master, — in  order  to  be- 
stow upon  the  Emperor  of  Germany  the  title 
"King  of  Kings  and  Lord  of  Lords!" 

We  are  in  the  midst  of  the  great  storm,  sirs, 
we  are  in  the  midst  of  the  great  storm,  and  we 
are  all  in  the  same  boat.  But  there  are  per- 
sons who  would  seize  the  life-boat  (if  there 
were  any  life-boat),  and  would  flee  to  some 
safe  haven  (if  there  were  any  safe  haven), 
and  would  leave  the  rest  of  us  to  battle  writh 
the  storm  alone. 

I  suppose  there  is  not  a  really  loyal  Ameri- 
can who  has  ever  had  any  dubiety  about  how 


the  war  is  going,  to  end,  or  who  has  any  du- 
biety about  it  now.  We  know  as  if  it  were 
a  thing  already  accomplished,  that  we  Ameri- 
cans with  our  partners  are  going  to  win  the 
war.  Never  allow  any  ambiguity  about  that 
to  have  a  place  in  your  heart  or  to  come  to 
expression  on  your  lip. 

But  there  are  some  very  equivocal  Ameri- 
cans living  in  America  who  are  prolonging  the 
war  by  self-pity,  by  cry-baby  philosophy,  by 
half-heartedness,  by  giving  way  to  war-weari- 
ness, by  fear,  by  out-and-out  cowardice. 

There  is  a  certain  percentage  of  humankind 
that  are  more  ready  to  run  than  they  are  to 
stand  their  ground  and  fight. 

You  may  have  heard  of  the  young  lady  who 
showed  to  her  visitors  a  relic  of  the  Civil  War, 
her  grandfather's  drum,  and  she  said,  "He  car- 
ried it  all  through  the  war,  and  every  time  he 
saw  the  enemy  approaching  he  would  beat  it." 

There  are  many  who  try  to  escape  from  the 
storms  of  life ;  who  refuse  to  bear  the  responsi- 
bilities of  life;  who  even  leap  overboard  from 
the  ship  of  life  and  drown  themselves  in  the 
depths  of  the  sea. 

There  are  those  who  flee  from  temptations. 
They  hide  themselves  from  life's  temptations. 
They  go  away  from  men  and  women — they 
escape  from  the  conflict  with  evil — at  least 
they  attempt  to  escape  from  it — by  running 
away.  They  do  not  resist  the  devil  and  make 
him  flee.    They  do  the  fleeing  themselves. 

There  are  some  who  murmur  against  God 
when  He  sends  to  them  their  due  allotment  of 
pain  and  sorrow.  They  try  to  find  a  way  of 
escape  from  the  common  ills  of  life. 

O,  sir,  who  are  you,  who  am  I,  to  demand 
immunity  from  the  storms,  to  demand  free- 
dom from  all  trial,  all  pain,  all  care,  all  burden, 


when  the  whole  creation  has  been  groaning 
and  travailing  with  pain  until  this  moment? 

There  are  men — I  call  them  men  only  be- 
cause they  are  adult  male  human  beings — who, 
when  the  cares  of  home-life  become  many, 
when  there  is  sickness,  hardship,  debt, — for- 
sake the  ship,  run  away,  hide*  themselves, 
leave  wife  and  children  to  struggle,  unhelped, 
against  the  storm. 

Paul  says  in  our  lesson,  "Except  these  abide 
in  the  ship,  the  rest  of  you  cannot  be  saved." 
And  when  anyone  deserts,  runs  away,  leaves 
his  post,  it  increases  the  burden  and  the  peril 
of  those  who  are  left  behind. 

One  of  the  bitterest  episodes  in  this  war  is 
the  abandoning  of  the  ship,  when  the  storm 
was  at  its  height,  by  one  whole  nation,  the 
biggest,  territorially,  of  all  the  nations.  Rus- 
sia has  a  mark  across  her  forehead  that  time 
will  never  be  able  to  erase.  Russia  got  out 
of  the  ship.  She  stole  the  life-boat.  She  de- 
serted her  Allies.  She  sneaked  away.  And 
we  are  going  to  pay  in  good,  red,  American 
blood  for  this  default  of  Russia. 

Our  President  says  he  is  going  to  stand  by 
Russia  and  help  Russia.  So  am  1,  but,  in  the 
heart  of  my  heart,  I  don't  want  to  do  it.  I 
am  going  to  do  it  only  because  I  am  going  to 
stand  by  the  President. 

I  confidently  believe  that,  had  Russia  re- 
mained faithful  to  her  Allies,  had  she  stood 
by  the  ship,  by  this  time  the  violence  of  the 
storm  would  have  exhausted  itself,  and  the 
ship  would  be  sailing  just  now  over  a  less  tur- 
bulent sea. 

The  United  States  has  entered  into  this  war 
at  last  with  all  her  heart  and  all  her  soul  and 
all  her  mind  and  all  her  strength;  and  she  is 
going  to  "see  it  through" ;  she  is  going  to  be 
in  it  at  the  finish. 


You  saw  on  some  of  the  banners  in  the 
parade  a  week  ago  the  phrase,  "Can  the 
Kaiser."  Every  American  who  is  trained  in 
the  higher  meanings  of  the  English  language 
understands  that  phrase,  "Can  the  Kaiser." 

But,  when  our  boys  marched  through  the 
streets  of  London  shouting  it  as  a  watchword, 
it  needed  some  explication.  A  Londoner  asked 
his  favorite  newspaper  what  it  might  mean. 
And  the  newspaper  made  it  quite  clear  to  him, 
like  this:  "To  'can'  in  the  American  sense 
may  mean  to  incarcerate  the  Kaiser  in  a  place 
of  forcible  detention  like  a  prison  or  a  peni- 
tentiary ;  or  it  may  be  used  in  the  sense  of 
hermetically  sealing  up  the  Kaiser  in  an  air- 
tight receptaculum  such  as  a  tin  can,  in  order 
to  preclude  the  possibility  of  his  subsequent 
fermentative  and  malevolent  activities. "    ■ 

That  ought  to  have  made  it  transparently 
clear  to  the  inquiring  Londoner. 

Just  as  surely  as  the  days  go  on  the  Kaiser 
and  his  associates  in  military  despotism  are 
going  to  "get  what's  coming  to  them."  Presi- 
dent Wilson  made  this  plain  in  his  Baltimore 
speech,  splendidly,  gloriously  plain.  He  said 
words  that  have  marvelous  power.  You  can 
imagine  you  see  the  stiffening  of  the  Presi- 
dent's jaw  muscles  as  he  speaks. 

"Germany  has  once  more  said  that  force 
and  force  alone  shall  decide  whether  justice 
and  peace  shall  reign  in  the  affairs  of  men, 
whether  right  as  America  conceives  it,  or 
dominion  as  she  conceives  it  shall  determine 
the  destinies  of  mankind.  There  is,  therefore, 
but  one  response  possible  from  us :  Force, 
force  to  the  utmost,  force  without  stint  or 
limit,  the  righteous  and  triumphant  force 
which  shall  make  right  the  law  of  the  world 
and  cast  every  selfish  dominion  down  in  trie 
dust." 


Those  are  words  with  the  bark  on.  They 
are  the  words  of  a  man  of  prayer,  of  a  man 
who  has  accepted  Jesus  Christ  as  his  Pattern 
and  Guide,  and  who  has  vowed  to  follow  Jesus 
Christ  as  Master  and  Lord.  And  the  Presi- 
dent's lines  have  gone  forth  into  all  the  earth, 
and  his  words  unto  the  ends  of  the  world. 

Many  strange  things  have  happened  during 
the  great  storm  through  which  we  are  pass- 
ing, but  none  more  strange  than  the  statement 
coming  from  107  members  of  the  Society  of 
Friends.  The  Quakers  have  always  stood  as 
a  unit  against  force,  against  righting,  against 
war.  The  main  body  of  the  Society  still 
stands  against  all  war.  But  these  men, — men 
like  Lippincott,  Clothier,  Sharpless,  Janney, 
Newcomer,  Tyson,  Swain,  Lamb,  Stabler, 
Haines, — names  that  stand  for  the  best  of  the 
best — these  men  have  written  and  signed  the 
document  that  bears  the  words : 

"Believing  that  it  is  not  enough  at  this  time 
to  be  neutral  and  that  the  views  of  the  Society 
of  Friends  have  not  been  adequately  repre- 
sented by  the  official  statements  of  its  execu- 
tives nor  by  the  utterances  of  many  of  its  pub- 
lic speakers,  we  feel  a  desire  to  follow  the 
course  of  our  brethren  in  England,  who  both 
now  and  in  their  past  history  have  realized 
that  there  are  unusual  and  extraordinary  cir- 
cumstances of  infrequent  occurrence  which 
cannot  be  rigidly  or  fully  met  by  any  man- 
made  Church  Discipline.  We  therefore  deem 
it  consistent  with  our  Quaker  faith  to  act  ac- 
cording to  the  dictates  of  our  own  conscience, 
and  to  proclaim  a  unity  with  the  teachings  of 
Jesus  Christ  and  the  messages  of  the  Presi- 
dent of  our  country." 

If  you  knew  the  Quakers  as  I  know  them 
from   long  residence    amongst  them, — if    you 

10 


know  how  conservative  they  are,  you  would 
say,  after  reading  this  statement,  what  I  have 
said  a  great  many  times  since  reading  it : 
"Mine  eyes  have  seen  the  glory  of  the  coming 
of  the  Lord ;  His  truth  is  marching  on." 

America  is  united  like  the  clenched  fist  to 
strike  at  the  devilism  of  Germany — and  Ger- 
many is  going  to  receive  the  staggering  blows 
until  she  reels  and  faints  under  them. 

Last  Wednesday,  Secretary  of  State  Lan- 
sing said,  in  New  York,  when  speaking  of  the 
"perpetuation  of  Prussianism :"  "Prussia  hav- 
ing wickedly  sought  war,  it  is  the  determina- 
tion of  the  American  people  that  Prussia  shall 
have  war  and  more  war  and  more  war,  until 
the  very  thought  of  war  is  abhorrent  to  the 
German  mind." 

We  are  not  going  to  abandon  the  ship,  sirs. 
We  are  going  to  remain  on  the  ship  with  the 
Allied  Nations  until  we  bring  the  ship  safe  to 
land. 

These  sailors  in  our  lesson  who  seized  the 
life-boat  and  were  about  to  steal  away  under 
cover  of  the  darkness  were  traitors ;  they  were 
mutineers ;  they  were  cowards ;  they  were 
slackers.  They  didn't  care  who  else  went 
down  into  the  stormy  sea  so  long  as  they 
didn't  go  down.  And  we  have  the  traitor  and 
the  mutineer  and  the  coward  and  the  slacker 
on  board  the  Ship  of  State  today  sailing  along 
with  us,  pretending  to  be  just  as  loyal  as  we 
are,  and  all  the  time  covertly  planning  to  scut- 
tle the  ship, — some  of  them  willing  to  go  to 
the  bottom  themselves  if  only  they  could  send 
America  and  everything  American  to  the  bot- 
tom. 

We  are  giving  blood  and  giving  treasure  to 
destroy  the   Prussian  who  is  seven  thousand 
miles  away ;  we  are  sending  our  sons  to  an- 
il 


other  hemisphere  to  shoot  the  Hun  in  his 
homeland, — but  there  are  Prussian  spies  here, 
right  here  in  the  United  States  touching  el- 
bows with  us,  and  we  know  they  are  here  and 
we  catch  them  red-handed,  and  we  try  them 
and  prove  that  they  are  traitors,  that  they  are 
here  to  destroy  our  country  and  its  institu- 
tions,— and  then,  after  finding  them  guilty,  we 
board  them  and  lodge  them  and  clothe  them 
and  entertain  them  and  amuse  them  at  great 
expense,  for  the  duration  of  the  war. 

Wasn't  there  a  song  that  went  current  one 
time  about  hanging  somebody  on  a  sour-apple 
tree?  And  may  not  some  modern  hymnolo- 
gist  rise  up  and  give  us  a  modern  hymn 
about  the  availability  and  the  efficiency  of  six 
yards  of  rope  and  a  sour-apple-tree,  and  thus 
render  some  of  the  haters  of  our  beloved 
country  less  boisterous  and  less'  demonstra- 
tive? 

A  number  of  years  ago  we  used  to  read 
books  about  China  and  we  called  it  the  "yel- 
low peril."  America  is  not  so  much  worried 
about  the  yellow  peril  just  now  as  she  is  about 
the  yellow  streak.  Your  slacker  spells  a  cer- 
tain word  p-a-c-i-f-i-s-t,  and  pronounces  it 
"pacifist."  I  spell  it  in  the  same  way  and 
pronounce  it  "yellow." 

There  never  was  a  brave  man  in  all  time 
who  was  a  pacifist  in  the  present-day  meaning 
of  the  newly-coined  word. 

The  pacifist  is  not  restrained  from  fighting 
because  he  is  so  religious,  but  because  he  is  so 
yellow.  He  has  a  yellow  streak  down  his  back 
vivid  enough  to  emit  light. 

The  pacifist  is  not  merciful ;  he  is  white-liv- 
ered. He  is  not  tender-hearted ;  he  is  chicken- 
hearted. 

If  the  devil  got  a  stone  in  his  cloven  hoof, 
12 


the  pacifist  would  meekly  and  benignantly  ex- 
tract the  stone,  put  a  bread-and-milk  poultice 
on  his  hoof,  lay  him  in  a  nice  white  hospital 
cot,  and  gently  nurse  him  back  to  health  so 
that  he  might  be  turned  loose  once  more  to 
prey  upon  human  society. 

The  pacifist  is  not  helping  to  sail  the  ship; 
he  is  hindering;  and  his  punishment  after  the 
storm,  is  over  will  be  to  receive  the  contempt 
and  the  reprobation  of  all  right-thinking  men. 

These  shipmen  in  the  lesson  were  disloyal. 
We  do  not  know  what  penalty  was  inflicted 
on  them  for  disloyalty.  Maybe  Captain  Julius 
put  them  in  irons.  Maybe  they  were  executed 
for  disloyalty  when  they  reached  home.  We  do 
not  know. 

But  we  do  know  that  we  have  disloyal  peo- 
ple traveling  with  us  on  the  ship.  Also  we 
know  that  we  cannot  execute  them  all  or  even 
incarcerate  them  all.  But  we  can  do  this,  we 
who  are  loyal  can  be  extra-special-loyal.  We 
can  be  one  hundred  per  cent  simon-pure 
American, — and  we  can  ostracize  that  which 
we  know  is  not  one  hundred  per  cent  Ameri- 
can. 

For  example,  there  is  the  newspaper.  The 
newspaper  that  is  not  one  hundred  per  cent 
loyal  in  these  days  of  testing  is  disloyal.  The 
newspaper  that  is  not  patriotic  from  its  first 
page  Title  to  the  last  line  of  its  last  page  is 
disloyal.  The  newspaper  that  carries  secret 
hints  of  pro-German  sympathy  in  its  cleverly 
camouflaged  editorials  is  disloyal.  And 
whether  that  paper  represents  power  and  in- 
fluence or  not,  really  loyal  Americans  will  de- 
cline to  be  numbered  amongst  its  supporters. 

Then  there  is  the  slacker.  The  slacker  who 
is  able  to  work  and  will  not  work  either  be- 
cause he  is  so  rich  he  need  not  work  or  so  lazy 

13 


he  hates  work,  is  disloyal ;  and  it  is  pleasant  to 
know  that  the  man  who  can  work  and  will  not 
work  is  going  to  be  made  to  work. 

Then  there  is  the  profiteer.  The  profiteer 
who  is  filling  his  pockets  with  money  by  tak- 
ing advantage  of  the  adversities  of  his  fellow- 
men, — who  is  growing  rich  so  fast  that  those 
who  are  working  in  his  employ  demand  that 
they,  too,  shall  be  speedily  enriched, — is  dis- 
loyal, and  our  Government  is  finding  him  out 
and  is  preparing  for  him  a  form  of  retribution 
that  will  exactly  fit  his  crime. 

And  there  is  the  man  who  works  for  this 
profiteer,  whether  union  laboring  man  or  non- 
union laboring  man,  who  strikes,  who  resorts 
to  violence,  because  this  Government  is  for  the 
nonce  in  a  tight  place.     He  is. disloyal. 

It  is  a  good  thing  that  there  are  labor  unions 
to  protect  the  toiler  from  the  rapacity  of  the 
rich, — but  this  is  no  time  to  discuss  the  rights 
and  wrongs  of  unions  or  non-unions.  There 
is  only  one  Union  just  now  that  all  loyal  peo- 
ple care  for  and  are  thinking  about  by  day  and 
by  night: — 

"What  God  in  His  infinite  wisdom  designed, 
And  armed  with  the  weapons  of  thunder, 
Not  all  of  the  despots  and  factions  combined 
Have  the  power  to  conquer  or  sunder! 

The  Union  of  Lakes,  the  Union  of  lands, 
The  Union  of  States  none  can  sever; 

The  Union  of  Hearts  and  the  Union  of  hands, 
And  the  Flag  of  the  Union  forever!" 

There  is  in  this  New  Testament  another  sea- 
story  in  which  the  living  Jesus  is  present  with 
the  men  on  board  when  a  great  storm  breaks. 
And  Jesus  is  weary,  and  lies  asleep  with  His 
head  on  the  pillow.  And  the  storm  grows  to 
a  tempest,  and  the  men  are  filled  with  terror, 
and  they  awaken  the  Master  with  the  cry, 
14 


"Carest  thou  not  that  we  perish?''  And  He 
arises  and  rebukes  the  wind  and  the  sea,  and 
there  is  a  great  calm. 

And  so,  in  this  storm  of  war  that  is  blowing 
around  us,  we  are  sometimes  afraid.  We  need 
not  be  afraid.  The  Master  is  on  board  the 
ship  that  carries  us,  and  He  will  bring  the 
ship  into  the  desired  haven.  Civilization  is  not 
going  to  be  wrecked.  Tyranny  is  not  going  to 
be  the  victor. 

Jesus  Christ  is  winning  His  way  in  this  war. 
Jesus  Christ  is  conquering  the  hosts  of  wrong. 
He  is  getting  His  will  done  in  ways  that  are 
past  your  rinding  out  and  mine. 

We  are  living  in  the  day  of  the  doom  of 
Kings.  The  doom  of  Kings  and  Kaisers  and 
Emperors  and  princes  and  dukes  and  earls  is 
written  in  a  writing  that  cannot  be  invalidated 
or  destroyed ;  the  universal  brotherhood  of 
man  is  coming;  we  have  the  sure  promise  of  it. 
The  handwriting  that  signs  it  is  the  hand- 
writing of  Him  who  bled  on  the  Cross,  and  the 
Red  Seal  that  attests  the  writing  shows  the 
print  of  a  pair  of  Wounded  Hands.  Surely 
you  give  thanks  to  Jesus  Christ  for  that  prom- 
ise and  its  approaching  fulfilment,  and  so  do  I. 

Today  a  man  is  a  man.  The  uniforms  have 
expunged  the  ancient  marks  of  social  distinc- 
tion. The  blacksmith's  son  sleeps  in  the  same 
tent  with  the  banker's  son,  and  fights  in  the 
same  trench  and  eats  from  the  same  dish  and 
drinks  from  the  same  canteen ;  the  reign  of 
the  common  people  is  coming;  and  you  give 
thanks  to  your  Lord  for  that,  and  so  do  I. 

Today  the  sexes  are  being  equalized  by  the 
giving  of  the  vote  to  the  woman.  The  day  is 
in  sight  in  this  America  when  the  woman  will 
have  the  full  franchise  in  every  state;  and  you 
can  count  on  the  fingers  of  one  hand  the  num- 
ber of  the  years  that  wait  when  she  will  have 
IS 


the  full  franchise  in  every  civilized  land  on  the 
globe;  and  you  thank  your  Lord  for  that,  and 
so  do  I. 

Today  some  differentiating  titles  are  grow- 
ing dim  and  fading.  We  are  discovering  that 
there  is  a  larger,  finer  word  than  Republican 
or  Democrat  or  Prohibitionist  or  Socialist,  and 
that  is  the  word  American.  All  real  Ameri- 
cans are  in  the  same  boat ;  every  true  Ameri- 
can is  American  to  the  last  drop  of  blood  in 
him  ;  and  you  rejoice  religiously  over  that,  and 
so  do  I. 

Today,  as  if  it  were  a  miracle  let  down  to 
earth  out  of  God's  white  heaven,  the  prohibit- 
ing of  the  manufacture  of  and  the  commerce  in 
all  intoxicating  liquors  is  speedily  coming. 

There  is  going  to  be,  ere  long,  a  bone-dry 
United  States  and  a  bone-dry  Canada  and  a 
bone-dry  British  Empire, — a  bone-dry  France, 
Italy,  Russia,  Austria.  Germany, — a  bone-dry 
world. 

King  Alcohol,  with  his  wrists  bound,  is 
seated  in  the  tumbrel-cart,  and  is  riding 
towards  that  executioner  who  knows  no  pity 
and  will  listen  to  no  protest.  And  you  are 
giving  thanks  to  Almighty  God  for  that,  and 
so  am  I. 

Jesus  Christ  is  Himself  aboard  the  ship  that 
carries  His  people,  and  the  ship  is  not  adrift, 
and  it  is  not  going  down.     He  is  piloting  it. 

Today  the  whole  earth  is  awaiting  the  com- 
ing of  His  Gospel  of  Peace.  As  soon  as  the 
war-gates  close  the  gospel-gates  are  going  to 
open ;  the  missionary  will  be  welcomed  by  men 
and  women  of  every  kindred  and  every  tongue  : 
this  holy  Book  will  go  into  every  land  and  ev- 
ery kingdom, —  offering  to  every  people  the 
right  to  the  Tree  of  Life  whose  leaves  have 
been  divinely  appointed  for  the  healing  of  the 
nations. 

16 


i  i 


APPETITE" 


f 


WILLIAM  H.  FISHBURN 


"APPETITE" 


By 

Rev.  William  H.  Fishburn,  D.  D. 


A  Sermon  Delivered  in  West  Adams  Presbyterian 

Church,  Los  Angeles,  California 

January  26,    1913 


*    ,  *   -        *' 


"APPETITE " 


Prov.  16:26.     "The  appetite  of  him  that  la- 
boreth  laboreth  for  him;  for  his  hunger  driveth 

him  on." 


The  Greatest  man  in  the  world  at  this  mo- 
ment is  the  Hungriest  man.  The  greatest 
man  that  ever  was  in  the  world  was  the  man 
with  the  sharpest  Hunger.  His  Hunger  was 
a  Hunger  that  wasted  Him  and  at  last  killed 
Him. 

The  measure  of  any  man's  greatness  is  the 
measure  of  his  Hunger.  Do  you  question 
that?  You  will  not  question  it  if  you  study 
it  deeply.  It  is  true.  The  Hungry  man  has 
always  and  everywhere  been  the  great  man. 
No  man  ever  yet  became  truly  great  until  he 
was  devoured  by  Hunger. 

One  of  the  philosophers  used  to  say,  "Man 
is  a  bundle  of  habits;"  I  amend  that  definition 
and  make  it  read,  Man  is  a  bundle  of  Appe- 
tites. 

A  thing  which  nobody  has  ever  seen  but 
which  everybody  has  felt  is  Appetite,  the  driv- 
ing force  that   God  has  placed  behind  every 


•APPETITE" 


living  creature/' Nobody  has  ever  seen  Appe- 
tite, but  everybody  has  felt  it. 

I  have  ventured  to  re-translate  this  text.  In 
the  Authorized  version  the  meaning  is  cloudy : 
"He  that  laboreth  laboreth  for  himself;  for 
his  mouth  craveth  it  of  him."  In  the  Re- 
ed  version  it  is  made  to  read,  "The  Appe- 
tite of  the  laboring  man  laboreth  for  him;  for 
his  mouth  urgeth  him  thereto."  The  version 
as  we  are  reading  it  here  is.  "The  appetite 
of  him  that  laboreth  laboreth  for  him;  for  his 
Hunger  driveth  him  on." 

The  inspired  man  who  writes  the  text  per- 
ceives that  some  men  are  driven  forward  as 
far  as  they  can  go  in  this  world  by  the  ap- 
petite of  the  Mouth :  but  he  perceives  also  that 
some  men,  the  highest  men,  are  driven  up- 
ward and  upward  by  the  appetite  of  the  Heart, 
by  the  appetite  of  the  Soul,  by  the  appetite 
of  the  Brain. 

There  is  such  a  thing  as  mouth  hunger;  but 
there  is  also  such  such  a  thing  as  heart-hunger, 
soul-hunger,  brain-hunger.  The  lower  ani- 
mals have  none  of  the  higher  appetites.  They 
remain  lower  animals  forever  because  their 
appetites  do  not  grow.  The  lower  animals  to- 
day eat  the  same  foods,  and  drink  the  same 
drinks,  and  live  in  the  same  dens  and  jungles 
and  caves,  that  they  ate  and  drank  and  lived 
in  tens  of  thousands  of  years  ago.     God  has 


"APPETITE" 


given  to  them  none  of  the  higher  appetites  of 
Heart  and  Soul  and  Brain. 

But  to  the  most  backward  races  of  mankind 
He  has  given  some  foreshadowing  of  these 
higher  appetites,  and  when  man  is  shown  the 
better  things,  as,  for  example,  this  Book  with 
its  revelations  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  of  the  lar- 
ger possibilities  of  man,  instantly  there  springs 
up  within  him  the  desire  to  become  better — 
a  new  Appetite  grows  in  him — he  gets  heart- 
hunger,  soul-hunger,  mind-hunger,  and,  like 
all  of  his  kind  everywhere  on  the  globe,  "his 
hunger  driveth  him  on/'  until  he  steps  into 
the  procession,  as  Japan  has  so  recently  done, 
and  marches  along  with  the  marching  host 
towards  a  nobler  civilization. 

Appetite  is  the  world-transformer!  Appe- 
tite is  the  impelling  force  behind  all  of  us,  and 
it  drives  us  on! 

You  will  answer  me,  "Yes;  appetite  drives 
some  men  upward  and  forward ;  it  drives  some 
men  to  eminence;  it  drives  some  men  to  mas- 
tery and  usefulness.  But  does  not  it  drive 
some  men  downward?  Does  not  it  drive 
downward  a  great  multitude  that  no  man  can 
number — the  glutton  to  beastliness,  the  drunk- 
ard to  sottishness,  the  gamester  to  crime  and 
insanity,  the  sensualist  to  shame  and  death?" 

Your  point  is  well  taken ;  but,  sirs,  does  not 
there  reside   back  of  every  force  that  dr: 


■  y  y  7  v .  v  y 


i"  :*.  .!?  •-•  :'  a*  :::  ^  .'  "  ''.;.;•  :*.;:  :'■;  < .■.::*.- 
■■<  -  :  :':::.:  v.-  ::^  :*•■  ;.  -  .■-  :  :  \i:  :■.:".-.>  y  /•.:: 
mill-sails*  and  that  drives  jour  commerce 
across  the  seas,,  become  a  scourge?  It  may 
bring  pestilence  on  its  wings;  it  may  uproot 
forests;  it  may  obliterate  villages  and  devas- 
tate cities  when  it  goes  roaring  past  in  the 
tornado  and  the  cyclone? 

May  not  the  power  of  Fire  which  drives  en- 

;  ;~_\:  ::;.  '  ■:  y  .:'  \*\  c\\\:\^<  ^  -•-:'":< 
gather  itself  together  and  smite  the  earth  as 
with  a  cnrse  in  the  form  of  a  great  confiagra- 


M ay  not  the  same  energy  that  gives  ns  Elec- 

that  brings  ns  within  whispering  distance  of 
oar  friends — may  not  that  same  energy  wither 
and  blast  and  destroy  when  flung  flaming  oat 
of  the  red  fist  of  the  lightning? 

And  just  so  Appetite,  which  a  wise  and 
good  Father  meant  to  be  a  boon  and  a  bless- 
:r.<.  '-v'.-.cr.  •.:"":-: "A •--::.  '  i':  ?-.:r?uei  :r.  ::$ 
■.:■*■:?:  'c  r.5  rr.i  '■::  :n:e  :.  '  ~:  a:.;  :.:.  :  :*- 
fence. 

Mr.  Darwin  long  ago  gave  it  out  as  his  con- 

r.irf  ir.i  ir.irr.Ji*?  :j.n*.r  :"  ~  -r^;:  e  :^f:e." 
that  is*  appetite.    He  did  not  know  that  he 


"APPETITE" 


'.■'.' c.;  •'-'-': c. .- r -'- r".  i r-.  ^  r. i:  ." y7, ',  *"- ~  :i  i  w.'^r.  -:  mil^ 
that  statement*  Mr.  Andrew  Balfour  came 
afterwards  and  asked,  "If  these  gorgeous  exit- 
orings  come  from  appetite,  where  does  ap- 
petite come  from?"  Mr.  Darwin  was  uncon- 
sciously admitting  that  back  of  evolution 
stands  appetite,  and  bach  oi  appetite  stands 
God  the  Creator  J 

You  cannot  explain  where  beautifulness 
comes  from  in  any  other  way  than  by  seeing 
God  the  Father  standing  behind  His  world. 
You  have  not  explained  the  mystery  when 
you  say,  "at  the  core  of  the  scheme  lies  ap- 
petite," you  must  tell  us  where  appetite  comes 
from. 

Man  is  what  he  is  because,  in  some  way, 
God  touches  him  and  forms  hhn.  Two  boys 
may  be  born  of  the  same  parents,  reared  un- 
der the  same  influences,  and  one  of  them 
may  develop  into  a  mere  vulgar  down  and 
the  other  into  a  genius. 

I  remember  to  have  read  that  when  Chief 
Justice  Chase  stood  in  Hanover  County,  Vir- 
ginia, at  the  birthplace  of  Patrick  Henry,  he 
admired  the  scenery.  He  said,  "What  an  at- 
mosphere! What  a  view!  No  wonder  that 
such  a  location  produced  a  Patrick  Henry  f 
A  farmer  who  stood  there  said,  "I  reckon 
you're  right,  Mr.  Chase,  but  this  atmosphere 
and  these  blue  hills  have  always  been  here, 


"APPETITE" 


but  they  haven't  produced  any  more  Patrick 
Henry's." 

We  receive  our  appetites  from  God,  sirs, 
and  we  use  them  as  we  will.  We  put  our  in- 
dividuality into  them. 

There  are  few  of  us  in  this  privileged  com- 
munity who  have  ever  been  hungry,  really 
hungry.  There  are  medical  treatises  that  tell 
us  how  insistent  are  the  clamors  of  actual  hun- 
ger, hunger  that  becomes  painful  and  deadly. 

Few  in  our  bountiful  country  have  ever  felt 
Hunger.  When  one  is  veritably  hungry  he 
does  not  notice  that  the  napery  is  as  white  as 
snow,  that  the  goblets  are  of  cut  glass,  that 
the  silver  bears  a  monogram,  and  that  the 
china  is  hand  painted. 

Do  you  remember  Ben  Gunn  in  Stevenson's 
Treasure  Island?  He  had  been  marooned,  left 
alone  on  the  island,  for  three  years;  and  he 
says  to  Jim  who  comes  to  rescue  him,  "Mate, 
my  heart  is  sore  for  Christian  diet.  You 
mightn't  happen  to  have  a  piece  of  cheese 
about  you  now.  No?  Well,  many's  the  long 
night  I've  dreamed  of  cheese,  toasted  mostly 
— and  woke  up  again,  and  here  I  were." 

The  mere  craving  for  food,  especially  in  a 
child,  is  almost  insatiable.  I  read  a  letter  to 
Santa  Claus  in  one  of  your  newspapers  last 
week,  and  all  one  small  boy  asked  for  was 
"two  toy  stores  and  a  candy-shop." 


"APPETITE" 


Now  it  is  precisely  thus  with  heart-hunger, 
soul-hunger,  mind-hunger.  It  never  can  be 
satisfied  in  this  world.  It  is  written  in  this 
Book,  "God  hath  set  the  whole  world  in  our 
heart/' 

There  are  men,  hundreds  of  them,  who 
would  if  they  could,  take  up  the  whole  world 
in  their  arms  and  hold  it  as  their  very  own. 
They  want  the  earth,  want  it  in  the  noblest 
sense.  They  hunger  for  power;  for  heaps  of 
money;  for  shiploads  of  treasure;  for  honor- 
able position;  for  the  applause  of  the  people; 
for  success  such  as  no  mortal  has  ever  had 
before;  for  fame  that  shall  send  their  names 
ringing  down  the  world  until  the  crack  of 
doom. 

These  longings  are  not  to  be  regarded  as 
wicked.  They  are  not  wicked.  They  are 
good.  It  is  upon  this  insatiable  Appetite  for 
place  and  power  that  the  world  is  hinged.  Man 
cannot  help  wishing  to  excel,  to  be  great.  God 
made  him  that  way.  God  hath  set  the  whole 
world  in  his  heart. 

It  is  the  Appetite  to  do  better  than  any  man 
ever  did  before  that  turns  every  wheel  that 
is  revolving.  "The  appetite  of  him  that  la- 
boreth  laboreth  for  him,  for  his  Hunger  driv- 
eth  him  on." 

It  is  awaste  of  time  to  protest  against 
this  striving  and  power-hunger  of  mankind. 
It  will  not  stop  because  you  reprehend  it.    You 


10  "APPETITE" 


might  as  well  make  faces  at  the  full  moon  as 
make  faces  at  the  rivalry  and  roar  and  slam 
of  commerce  in  these  days  of  yours. 

God  meant  it  to  be  this  way,  and  it  is  going 
to  go  on  in  this  way  until  something  comes 
out  of  it  all  more  lovely  than  you  ever  dream- 
ed in  your  wildest  visions.  Man's  soul-hun- 
ger and  heart-hunger  and  brain-hunger  drive 
him  on. 

The  greatest  man  is  the  hungriest  man. 
What  is  that  hunger  to  send  the  Bible  yonder 
and  yonder  to  the  farthest  outposts  of  the 
world?  What  is  that  hunger  to  find  every 
last  man  and  woman  and  child  in  every  hid- 
den corner  of  every  remotest  land,  and  tell 
them  the  blessed  Gospel  story?  It  is  Mis- 
sionary hunger. 

There  are  some  who  do  not  approve  of  Mis- 
sions. Their  disapproval  does  not  halt  the 
Missionary  zeal.  It  goes  on.  God  means 
that  it  shall  go  on  until  every  soul  shall  know 
the  Old,  Old  Story. 

God  hath  set  the  whole  world  in  the  heart 
of  these  Missionary  men  and  women.  They 
are  not  fanatics  any  more  than  you  cool-headed 
business  men  are  fanatics.  They  are  only  men 
and  women  with  heart-hunger,  soul-hunger, 
and  their  hunger  is  driving  them  on. 

We  owe  it  to  the  Driving  Power  of  Appe- 
tite that  the  world  is  as  it  is  at  this  moment — 


"APPETITE"  11 


not  a  perfect  world  by  any  means — but  a 
world  that  is  surely,  if  slowly,  going  on  unto 
perfection. 

Hunger-Driven  men,  you  can  see  them  all 
the  way  back  into  farthest  antiquity.  Appe- 
tite, the  driving-power  of  Appetite  has  made 
some  men  monsters,  but  it  has  made  most  men 
Men. 

You  can  see  in  remote  times  Abraham 
driven  by  Faith-hunger;  Moses  driven  by  Lib- 
erty-hunger; Daniel  by  Prayer-hunger;  Paul 
by  Missionary-hunger;  John  the  Divine  by 
Heaven-hunger.  The  great  men  in  your  Bible 
were  all  driven  by  some  form  of  Hunger. 

Outside  your  Bible  stands  Caesar  driven 
by  Power-hunger;  Columbus  by  Discovery- 
hunger;  Napoleon  by  Conquest-hunger;  Bee- 
thoven by  Music-hunger;  Raphael  by  Color- 
hunger.  "The  appetite  of  him  that  laboreth 
laboreth  for  him;  for  his  hunger  driveth  him 

On." 

Recent  times  have  given  us  Pasteur  driven 
by  Healing-hunger;  Darwin  by  Investigation- 
hunger;  Edison  by  Invention-hunger — you 
may  extend  the  list  until  your  tablets  shall  be 
filled  with  the  names  of  the  illustrious  who 
were  driven  on  by  the  compelling  power  of 
some  form  of  Appetite. 

Our  blessed  Lord  Jesus  Himself  was  dom- 
inated by  Hunger.     A  Prophet  wrote  of  Him 


12  "APPETITE" 


that  He  should  be  an  anguished  Man,  and 
said,  "He  shall  see  of  the  anguish  of  His  soul 
and  shall  be  satisfied. "  His  hunger  was  for 
the  saving  of  the  whole  world.  God  had  set 
the  whole  world  in  His  heart,  and  His  desire 
was  to  save  the  souls  and  the  bodies  of  a 
thousand  generations  of  men,  down  to  the  last 
rolling  up  of  the  scroll  of  time. 

Why  are  men  going  on  from  conquest  to 
conquest  over  nature  and  its  powers  today? 
Because  of  the  God-implanted  Hunger  in 
heart  and  soul  and  brain.  Hunger  to  Know 
is  driving  them  on. 

Patient  men  who  are  in  the  laboratories 
studying  the  origins  of  disease  processes  are 
there  because  they  are  Hungry  to  Know. 
Learned  men  have  devised  mechanisms  to 
isolate  the  atom;  to  measure  the  speed  of  a 
light-wave;  to  roll  distant  stars  into  theiir 
balances;  to  break  up  remotest  suns  into  their 
constituent  elements ;  to  explore  the  subtle 
ether  and  compel  it  to  yield  up  its  secret.  Why 
have  they  done  these  things?  Because  they 
are  driven  by  Hunger  to  Know,  and  their 
hunger  for  exact  knowledge  cannot  be  satis- 
fied. There  are  men  of  science  who  would 
give  their  right  hands  to  know  the  ultimate 
and  final  truth  about  some  one  material  thing, 
a  quest  that  has  not  yet  been  crowned  with 
success. 


'APPETITE"  13 


No  sooner  is  something  settled  by  physical 
science  than  it  becomes  again  unsettled.  We 
used  to  imagine  that  if  there  was  one  thing 
we  understood  it  was  Gravitation.  But  now 
we  are  perfectly  certain  that  if  there  is  any 
one  thing  we  do  not  understand  it  is  Gravi- 
tation. They  are  questioning  whether  gravi- 
tation is  a  push  or  a  pull ;  whether  some  tor- 
sion of  the  ether  pushes  this  book  towards 
my  hand  or  whether  some  less  complex  tor- 
sion of  the  ether  pulls  it  towards  my  hand. 
They  will  pursue  the  investigation.  They  can- 
not stop.  There  is  no  stopping-place  in  exact 
thinking.  "The  Appetite  of  him  that  laboreth 
laboreth  for  him;  for  his  hunger  driveth  him 
on." 

You  have  seen  what  one  of  our  essayists 
calls  the  "flying  men  in  the  aeroplane  which 
sings  through  the  skies  like  a  silver  arrow, 
the  bleak  white  steel  of  it  gleaming  in  the 
bleak  blue  emptiness  of  upper  space."  Why 
are  they  there,  these  flying  men?  They  are 
driven  there  by  Hunger  for  Conquest,  just 
as  bold  men  go,  in  defiance  of  deadly  cold  to 
the  North  pole  and  the  South  pole. 

There  is  a  commandment  to  man — it  is  the 
first  commandment  in  your  Bible — "Replenish 
the  earth,  and  subdue  it,  and  have  dominion." 
God  is  compelling  men  to  go  on.  He  implants 
in  them  the  soul-hunger  that  drives  them  on. 


14  "APPETITE" 


No  sane  minister  would  preach  to  his  people 
the  gospel  of  discontent,  that  is  bitterness  of 
spirit  against  things  as  they  are.  But  I  do 
preach  to  you,  my  people,  the  gospel  of  Un- 
content — of  willingness  to  bear  with  things 
as  they  are,  to  be  patient — but  to  bear  with 
them  not  one  moment  longer  than  you  must; 
to  be  constantly  following  the  hastening  foot- 
steps of  the  ongoing  Jesus,  and  to  be  press- 
ing toward  the  mark  for  the  prize. 

The  desire  that  this  world  shall  become 
better  than  it  is  is  not  satanic  but  Godlike. 
To  be  Un-satisfied  with  things  as  they  are, 
in  the  hope  of  making  them  better  is  not 
wicked;  it  is  noble. 

Mr.  W.  S.  Jackson  in  his  book,  "Nine  Points 
of  the  Law"  says,  "Be  content,  and  you  will 
not  want  more  than  you  have;  be  discon- 
tent, and  you  shall  eventually  have  what  you 
want." 

There  is  no  doubt  that  the  more  man 
"wants"  the  harder  he  works.  If  no  man  had 
a  desire  to  do  better  the  world  would  stop. 
The  craving  for  luxury  is  a  stimulant  to  ef- 
fort. 

There  are  those  who  tell  us  they  are  per- 
fectly satisfied  with  things  just  as  they  are. 
They  are  not  the  persons  who  move  others 
or  who  do  much  moving  themselves.  They 
are  the  world's  drones,  too  indolent  to  have  a 


'APPETITE"  15 


desire,  because  desire  would  mean  motion,  and 
their  only  desire  is  to  be  still. 

You  can  never  go  back  and  be  satisfied  with 
the  moderate  pleasures  of  the  past.  You 
sometimes  dream  about  going  back,  but  you 
are  never,  never  going  to  do  it.  It  is  quite 
fruitless  to  regret  that  it  can't  be  done,  be- 
cause it  is  never  going  to  be  done. 

It  is  not  God's  plan  to  turn  back  one  leaf 
in  the  lesson-book  of  Life  and  let  us  read  it 
over  again.  The  things  that  were  good  enough 
for  your  grandsires  are  not  good  enough  for 
you,  and  whosoever  says  they  are  good  enough 
is  talking  rubbish.  The  old  times  will  never 
come  back.  We  are  going  forward.  Hunger 
driveth  us  on. 

All  have  hunger  for  Comfort.  What  is  com- 
fort? To  your  horse  it  is  hay  and  oats  and  a 
bed  of  clean  straw;  to  your  dog  it  is  a  bone 
to  gnaw  and  a  dish  of  water  and  a  soft  rug 
to  sleep  on.  But  to  you  comfort  is  very  com- 
plex. You  have  multiplied  the  comforts  and 
now  they  have  become  necessities.  You  could 
not  abolish  your  telephone,  and  your  daily 
newspaper,  and  your  lighted  streets,  and  your 
rapid  transit,  and  your  thousand  household 
conveniences,  and  go  back  to  the  messenger 
boys,  and  the  weekly  newspaper,  and  the  dark 
streets,    and    the    slow    stage-coach,    and    the 


16  "APPETITE" 


thousand  inconveniences  of  the  days  of  your 
recent  ancestors. 

When  any  one  says  to  me  that  he  would 
like  to  go  back  to  the  "good  old  days,"  I  am 
reminded  of  what  Lincoln  said  when  he  heard 
a  piece  of  bad  poetry — "If  any  one  would  like 
anything  like  that,  that  would  be  about  the 
kind  of  a  thing  he  would  like." 

You  have  set  your  scale  of  comforts  high, 
and  you  couldn't  go  back — not  really. 

Mr.  Meredith  Townsend  in  his  "Asia  and 
Europe"  tells  us  of  a  speech  made  by  Sir 
Auckland  Colvin  at  Lucknow  in  India,  in 
which  he  called  upon  the  Hindu  people  to 
"want  more  comforts,"  and  in  which  he  asked 
England  to  teach  the  Hindus  to  "want  more 
comforts." 

Mr.  Townsend  admits,  somewhat  reluctant- 
ly that  "the  standard  of  comfort  among  the 
masses  in  India  is  almost  the  lowest  among 
the  semi-civilized  peoples  of  the  world;"  and 
he  says:  "The  Hindu's  possessions  are  so  few 
that  he  could  fly  into  the  jungle  with  his  whole 
possessions  at  five  minutes'  notice,  and  carry 
them  all  himself." 

And  I  was  thinking  when  I  read  the  book 
that  there  is  only  one  way  to  awaken  India, 
and  that  is  to  give  to  her  the  Divine  Appe- 
tite for  better  things.  The  Missionaries  of 
the   Cross  will   do  that  thing  in  the   coming 


"APPETITE"  17 


years.    Soul  Hunger  will  drive  India  on. 

If  you  could  go  into  the  heart  of  Darkest 
Africa  at  this  moment  and  implant  in  those 
black  men  your  American  Hunger  for  the 
highest  and  the  best,  the  Dark  Continent 
would  awaken,  cities  of  marble  would  spring 
up  there,  and  church  bells  would  rock  in  a 
thousand  steeples. 

It  is  Hunger,  hunger  for  the  higher  things, 
Soul  Appetite,  that  the  heathen  peoples  lack, 
and  when  God's  time  comes  to  give  all  the 
world  that  Hunger,  all  the  world  will  be  il- 
lumined with  the  shining  of  the  Great  Light. 

This  Hunger  adds  to  our  burdens;  there  can 
be  no  doubt  of  that ;  but  it  more  greatly  adds 
to  our  blessings.  How  is  it  the  poet  phrases 
it? 

"After  long  digging,  a  quick-spent  treasure, 
A  long,  long  life,  and  a  springtide's  pleasure, 
A  year  of  the  thorn  and  a  day  of  the  rose, 
And  then — all  goes. 

"Ah!  but  had  never  a  treasure  beckoned, 
Had  life  by  its  hopes  been  never  reckoned, 
Had   the   thorns   been   blunted,   the   rose   not 
blown, 
Who  could  atone? 

"The  treasure,  gold,  to  the  last  thin  coin  in  it, 
The  rose,  pure  red  where  the  rich  leaves  join 

it  it, 
Do  they  not  pay — once  won,  once  worn, 
For  labor  and  thorn  ?" 


18  "APPETITE" 


We  ought  to  pray  for  great  Appetite  of 
heart  and  soul  and  brain.  There  are  millions 
who  have  not  this  Appetite.  How  shall  they 
get  it?  How  did  you  get  it,  my  people?  God 
gave  it  to  you.  It  came  from  above.  Jesus 
said,  "Except  a  man  be  born  from  above  he 
cannot  so  much  as  see  that  there  is  any  king- 
dom of  God."  Pray  thou  to  God  for  soul-hun- 
ger. Pray  for  those  who  are  not  hunger- 
driven,  who  have  no  such  thing  as  soul-hun- 
ger, who  do  not  understand  what  you  mean 
when  you  talk  of  soul-hunger — pray  thou  to 
God  for  thyself  and  for  them. 

Go  to  them  and  tell  them  that  there  is  a 
higher  life,  and  that  there  is  a  better  way  to 
live.  Be  a  minister  to  them  to  impart  to  them 
the  Great  Hunger  that  shall  lead  them  onward 
and  upward. 

A  word  from  you  may  change  a  life.  You 
remember  the  kind  old  priest,  and  the  story 
of  the  Silver  Candlesticks  in  "Les  Miserables," 
and  how  one  kind  word  changed  Jean  Val- 
jean  from  a  desperate  and  hopeless  criminal 
to  an  industrious  and  prosperous  gentleman. 
That  one  kind  word  implanted  in  the  broken 
man  the  Hunger  that  drove  him  on.  Be  thou 
a  minister  to  some  one  to  impart  the  Great 
Hunger. 

"Far  beyond  you,"  some  one  says,  "some- 
thing is   being  worked   out,    something  wide 


"APPETITE"  19 


and  infinite,  something  that  wholly  transcends 
your  limited  thought  and  sight."  God  is  call- 
ing to  you  through  your  soul-appetite. 

No  man  here  has  ever  found  his  ideal  place. 
Each  of  us  has  an  ideal  world  in  which  we 
long  to  dwell,  an  ideal  sphere  in  which  we  long 
to  labor.  None  of  us  finds  it  here.  But  we 
shall  find  it.  This  hunger  for  better  things, 
this  feeling  that  is  centered  in  all  of  us — I 
think  it  is  a  foregleam  of  heaven. 

We  have  never  seen  the  best  things,  but 
we  are  going  to  see  them.  We  have  never 
sung  the  best  songs,  but  we  are  going  to 
sing  them.  The  Divine  Hunger  will  drive  us 
on! 

"I  think  the  song  that  is  sweetest 
Is  the  one  that  is  never  sung; 
It  lies  in  the  heart  of  the  singer, 
Too  noble  for  mortal  tongue; 
And  sometimes  in  the  silences 
Between  the  day  and  night 
He  fancies  that  its  measures 
Are  lovelier  than  the  light. 

"The  noblest,  richest  poem, 
Lies  not,  in  blue  and  gold 
Among  the  treasured  volumes 
That  rosewood  bookshelves  hold — 
But  in  bright  and  glowing  visions, 
It  comes  into  the  poet's  brain, 
Yet  when  he  tries  to  grasp  it, 
His  efforts  are  all  in  vain. 


20  "APPETITE" 


''A  lifted  Hand  from  the  distant  Land 
Beckons  us  here  and  there — 
But  when  we  strive  to  clasp  it, 
It  vanishes  into  air. 
It  is  thus  our  Fair  Ideal 
Floats  onward,  just  before, 
Yet  we,  with  Hungering  spirits 
Reach  for  it  evermore. " 


"Color-Blind  People" 


WILLIAM  H.  FISHBURN 


... 


^^^m^M&mmmmmMM^^m^ 


' 'Color-Blind  People'1 


By 


Rev.  William  H.  Fishburn,  D.  D. 


A  Sermon  Delivered  in  West  Adams  Presbyterian 

Church,   Los  Angeles,   California, 

January  5,  1913 


"Color-Blind  People" 


Gen.  1 :4.    "And  God  divided  the  light  from 
the  darkness." 


Once  upon  a  time,  it  was  in  Fairy-Tale  time, 
there  were  Twin  Sisters.  The  one  Sister  was 
Fair,  fair  as  a  summer  morning,  and  the  people 
looked  and  admired  when  she  went  by.  She 
was  clad  in  a  robe  of  spun  silver;  about  her 
neck  floated  a  silver  scarf;  her  head  was 
adorned  with  a  silver  crown  set  with  shining 
silver  stars ;  and  over  her  shoulder  she  car- 
ried a  glittering  bag  woven  of  silver  thread. 

The  other  Sister  was  Black,  black  as  a  win- 
ter night,  and  the  people  shrank  from  her  when 
she  came  near.  She  was  garbed  in  a  robe  of 
ebony  black;  around  her  middle  was  a  girdle 
of  black ;  her  bowed  head  was  concealed  un- 
der a  hood  of  black,  and  over  her  shoulder  she 
bore  a  huge  bag  of  forbidding  black. 

And  the  name  of  the  Fair  Sister  was  Nocis, 
and  the  name  of  the  Black  Sister  was  Lucis, 
and  together,  side  by  side,  they  went  on  down 
the  long  highway  that  conducts  to  the  King's 
House. 

Now,  it  was  so  that  each  Girl  must  fill  her 


"COLOR-BLIND  PEOPLE" 


bag  before  the  journey's  end.     And  Lucis,  the 
Girl  in  Black  did  gather  all  lovely  things. 

She  picked  up  great  handfuls  of  white  sun- 
shine, and  pressed  them  into  her  black  bag. 
She  gathered  the  songs  of  birds,  and  packed 
them  in.  She  collected  the  colors,  and  the 
scents  of  flowers,  and  poured  them  into  her 
bag. 

She  went  back  and  forth  along  the  high- 
way to  find  the  gladsome  things — the  music  of 
distant  wedding-bells,  the  sound  of  child- 
laughter  that  floated  past,  the  echoes  of  kind 
words,  the  sweet  melody  of  human  singing. 

But  Nocis,  the  Girl  clad  in  Silver,  did  gather 
up  the  fearsome  things.  She  took  up  great 
sheaves  of  shadows  and  thrust  them  into  her 
silver  bag.  She  stopped  beside  the  Brook 
that  flows  with  human  sorrows,  and  poured 
a  measure-full  of  tears  into  her  bag.  She 
gathered  the  moans  and  cries  of  anguished 
men  and  women  and  crushed  them  in.  A 
handful  of  thorns  went  in,  and  a  handful  of 
withered  flowers.  Sicknesses,  and  aches  and 
pains,  and  the  long  noise  of  murmuring  misery 
— she  packed  them  in. 

Now,  it  came  to  pass,  when  the  evening 
began  to  fall,  and  when  both  their  bags  were 
full,  that  they  betook  them  to  the  House  of 
the  King.     And  the  King  saw  them,  and  the 


"COLOR-BLIND  PEOPLE" 


King  and  the  King's  men  came  out  to  meet 
them. 

But,  when  the  King  beheld  the  Sisters,  lo! 
they  had  changed  in  face  and  raiment.  The 
Fair  face  of  Nocis  had  darkened  to  the  hue 
of  night.  Her  silver-spun  bag  had  turned 
to  inky  black,  and  all  her  draperies  were 
clinging  black.  But  the  erstwhile  Dark  face 
of  Lucis  had  become  Fair  and  radiant.  Her 
robe  was  no  longer  black,  but  was  Glowing 
Silver.  Her  black  bag  was  braided  silver, 
luminous  silver;  and  her  black  hood  was  trans- 
muted into  a  silver  crown  bedecked  with 
shining  silver  stars. 

These  two  sisters  in  my  home-made  Fairy- 
Tale  had  "Divided  the  Light  from  the  Dark- 
ness;" and  one  had  gathered  up  only  the 
Light,  while  the  other  had  gathered  up  onh 
the  Darkness. 

The  spirit  of  Lucis,  in  spite  of  some  sor- 
row that  threatened  to  blight  her  life,  was  filled 
with  sunshine,  and  her  spirit  had  turned  her 
blackness  white.  The  spirit  of  Nocis,  in  spite 
of  gladsome  surroundings,  was  dark  within 
her,  and  her  spirit  had  turned  her  silver  to 
ebony.  They  divided  the  light  from  the  dark- 
ness. 

Our  text  says:  "And  God  divided  the  light 
from  the  darkness."  So  do  you,  sir,  and  so 
do   you,   and   you.     So   does   everybody   that 


"COLOR-BLIND  PEOPLE" 


comes  into  the  world.  All  of  us  "divide  the 
light  from  the  darkness.'"  Indeed  we  do 
nothing  else  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave. 

But  some  of  us  so  love  the  Light  that  we 
walk  in  the  light  and  gather  up  the  light; 
while  some  select  the  Dark  for  their  portion, 
and    walk    the    whole    journey    in    the    dark. 

Some  hugely  rich  people  are  pitifully  poor. 
God  clothes  them  in  satin  and  silver,  and 
gives  them  the  silver  mesh-bag;  but  they  fill 
their  silver-mesh  bag  with  grievances  and 
hurts  and  jealousies  and  envies.  They  have 
more  grievances  than   griefs. 

Some  poor  people  are  amazingly  rich.  They 
fill  their  gaberlunzies  with  the  good  things,  the 
wholesome  things,  the  heartening  things. 

You  can  see  these  people  who  divide  the 
light  from  the  darkness  on  all  sides  of  you ; 
and  other  people  can  see  whether  you  are 
gathering  up  the  light  or  the  darkness.  You 
can  see  these  people  on  the  streets,  in  the 
cars,  in  the  stores,  in  the  offices,  in  the  work- 
shops, in  the  schools,  in  the  homes — these 
people  who  are  dividing  the  light  from  the 
darkness. 

From  many  a  silver  mesh-bag  you  can  see 
troubles  and  anxieties  and  worries  peeping  out. 
Sometimes  they  cry  out,  they  become  vocal. 
And  from  many  a  black  bag  you  can  see  im- 
prisoned flowers  peeping  out.     Some  persons 


"COLOR-BLIND  PEOPLE" 


gather  shadows,  while  others  gather  sun- 
shine on  the  very  same  street  in  the  very 
same  world. 

If  you  are  set  on  finding  the  dark  side, 
you  are  going  to  find  it;  if  you  are  looking 
for  defects,  you  are  going  to  discover  them. 
The  hungry  Optimist  at  the  table  looks  at  the 
roast,  and  says:  "How  good  it  is;"  the  hun- 
gry Pessimist  looks  at  the  same  portion,  and 
says,  "How  small  it  is." 

Mrs.  Ellen  Thorneycroft  Fowler  tells  us 
how  she  gets  the  good  out  of  life  without  also 
getting  the  bad : 

"The  cynics  say  that  every  rose 
Is  guarded  by  a  thorn  that  grows 

To  spoil  our  posies ; 
But  I  no  pleasure  therefore  lack, 
I  keep  my  hands  behind  my  back 

When  smelling  roses. 

"  'Tis  proved  that  Sodom's  apple-tarts 
Have  ashes  as  component  parts 
For  those  that  steal  them ; 
My  soul  no  dis-illusion  seeks, 
I  love  my  apples'  rosy  cheeks, 
But  never  peel  them. 

"Though  outwardly  a  gloomy  shroud, 
The  inner  half  of  every  cloud 
Is  bright  and  shining; 
I  therefore  turn  my  clouds  about, 
And  always  wear  them  inside  out. 
To  show  the  lining." 


"COLOR-BLIND  PEOPLE" 


When  our  Lord  Jesus  lived  a  human  life 
in  this  world,  He  saw  the  shadows;  but  He 
did  not  gather  up  the  shadows.  He  gathered 
up  the  Light;  He  rilled  His  hands  with  the 
Sunshine;  and  the  optimism  of  His  Gospel  is 
the  great  Light  that  is  today  going  around 
the  whole  world  to  brighten  the  world. 

In  this  present  life  the  Light  and  Dark- 
ness are  mixed.  In  a  real  sense  you  cannot 
put  the  darkness  in  one  bag  and  the  light  in 
another,  and  keep  them  separate. 

Your  teacher  of  physical  science  will  tell 
you  that  our  earth  never  sees  perfect  dark- 
ness or  perfect  light.  They  are  woven  to- 
gether by  God's  ringers.  Perfect  darkness,  it 
is  imagined,  would  paralyze  the  brain;  per- 
fect light  would  scorch  the  brain  to  a  cinder. 
Some  of  you  who  have  felt  the  white  glare  of 
the  unpitying  sun  in  the  desert  may  con- 
ceive what  a  perfect  light  might  mean. 

Our  Heavenly  Father  has  mercifully  min- 
gled the  sorrows  with  the  joys.  If  any  of  us, 
in  this  life  could  have  perfect  joy  it  would 
kill  us;  if  we  could  have  unmixed  sorrow  it 
would  drive  us  insane.  God  mixes  some  joy 
with  every  sorrow,  and  some  sorrow  with 
every  joy. 

I  used  to  say  to  myself  that  the  only  un- 
mixed sorrow  that  ever  befell  a  Person  befell 
our  Saviour  when  He  bowed  in  the  Garden 


"COLOR-BLIND  PEOPLE" 


of  Gethsemane;  but  now  I  am  sure  that  even 
that  hour  of  darkness  had  within  it  some  rays 
of  light.  A  great  Hope  came  to  Jesus  at  that 
moment,  like  an  angel,  and  comforted  Him. 
God  never  permits  any  human  soul  to  be 
whelmed  in  the  billows  of  an  unbroken  dark- 
ness. 

In  Heaven  there  is  no  night;  but  here  in 
earth  the  light  and  the  darkness  alternate. 
However  bright  the  day,  the  night  comes. 
We  shall  be  able  to  rejoice  in  the  candid  shi- 
ning of  the  next  world,  but  we  could  not  bear 
it  now.  We  require  the  rest  that  comes  with 
the  darkness.  We  could  not  live  all  our  lives 
in  the  pitiless  glare.  There  are  times  when 
we  pull  down  the  blinds,  when  we  rejoice 
that  the  evening  shadows  are  falling.  And 
so  God  offsets  our  joys  with  sorrows.  Too 
much  joy  would  spoil  us,  like  too  much  light. 

We  are  to  divide  the  light  from  the  dark- 
ness. We  are  to  discover  which  is  light  and 
which  is  darkness.  The  worst  evils  come  to 
us  from  confusing  light  with  darkness;  from 
being  unable  to  discriminate  between  them. 

Everywhere  we  go  they  are  mixed  together. 
The  florist  sells  over  the  same  counter  wed- 
ding-wreaths and  funeral  flowers.  I  saw,  the 
other  day,  in  a  bookstore,  a  Bible  gilt-edged, 
with  black-under-gold.  When  closed  it  shone 
with  the  burnished  metal,  but  as  you  thumbed 
the  edges  the  black  shone  out. 


10  "COLOR-BLIND  PEOPLE" 


Dr.  Watkinson  tells  of  a  traveler  in  Brazil 
who  wrote  of  the  astonishing  vegetation  there, 
of  the  glowing  flowers  of  immense  size ;  hand- 
some butterflies  eight  inches  from  tip  of  wing 
to  tip  of  wing,  dyed  in  black  and  silver  and 
scarlet  and  blue  and  gold;  of  superb  orchids; 
of  gigantic  ferns  like  trees ;  but  told  on  the 
same  pages  of  his  letter  about  stinging  in- 
sects that  bite  until  the  blood  flows;  about 
the  swamp  fevers  and  the  poisonous  serpents. 
He  says,  "There  were  glorious  things  and 
ghastly  things  in  the  same  landscape.'' 

The  light  was  woven  in  and  in  with  the 
darkness.  There  are  lovely  things  in  human 
life,  but  there  are  noxious  things  too.  Let  us 
make  no  mistake  about  that.  Some  persons 
deny  the  existence  of  pain,  and  care,  and  bur- 
den, and  evil,  and  call  themselves  optimists. 
They  are  not  optimists;  they  are  idiots. 

There  are  both  light  and  darkness,  and  they 
are  here  for  everybody,  and  everybody  gets  a 
share  of  each. 

The  picture  in  the  text  is  as  if  light  and 
darkness  were  two  separate  entities,  like  a 
stratified  rock  where  a  layer  of  snow-white 
marble  is  grown  to  a  layer  of  black  obsidian, 
and  God  drives  a  wedge  between,  and  cleaves 
the  one  from  the  other.  But  that  is  only  a 
picture. 

In  real  life  the  black  melts  into  the  white, 


"COLOR-BLIND  PEOPLE"  11 


and  the  white  merges  into  the  black.  There 
is  no  sharp  line  where  the  one  ends  and  the 
other  begins. 

Wherever  the  light  shines  brightest,  there 
the  shadows  are  blackest.  It  is  the  one  who 
has  been  most  favored  who  feels  the  greatest 
anguish  when  darkness  falls. 

Jacob,  when  his  beloved  boy  was  taken  from 
him,  cried  out  in  wild  grief:  "All  these  things 
are  against  me."  He  forgot  the  sunlight  that 
God  had  poured  upon  him  throughout  a  long 
lifetime.  He  forgot  Bethel,  and  Padan-Aram 
and  Peniel — "All  these  things  are  against  me." 

Jacob's  light  all  went  out  at  the  coming  of 
a  single  sorrow.  His  faith  in  God  went  into 
total  eclipse.  We  know  that  all  these  things 
were  not  against  Jacob.  They  were  his 
blessings.     They  made   him  great. 

But  how  many  of  us,  my  people,  go  off  into 
the  outer  darkness  over  the  bitterness  of  a 
single  grief.  We  forget  the  years  of  joy.  We 
forget  the  great  mercies  of  the  good  God. 
Years  of  prosperity  are  forgotten  in  one  hour 
of  evil. 

Do  you  know  the  best  use  to  make  of  the 
dark  things?  Turn  them  into  bright  things. 
The  white  light  that  is  falling  on  this  pul- 
pit is  falling  there  because  some  one,  some- 
where, is  burning  black  coal  or  black  oil  and 
turning  it  into  electric-light-potentials.     Coal, 


12  "COLOR-BLIND  PEOPLE" 


carbon,  the  blackest  thing  we  know,  carries 
the  most  energy,  the  most  light,  of  any  sub- 
stance we  know — but  only  after  the  coal  has 
been  put  through  the  fire. 

Accept  the  dark  providences  the  Lord  send? 
you,  and  turn  them  into  bright  things. 

I  saw,  in  a  show,  two  one-legged  men,  one 
of  them  with  a  good  right  leg,  the  other  with 
a  good  left  leg,  and  they  strapped  themselves 
together,  and  put  on  an  immense  policeman's 
coat,  and  came  to  the  platform,  and  danced 
jigs,  and  Highland  Flings  and  two-steps,  and 
turned  hand-springs,  and  exhibited  high-kick- 
ing exploits.  They  delighted  the  audience,  and 
were  on  the  pay-roll  for  fifty  dollars  a  night, 
each.  They  accepted  the  burden  God  had 
sent  them,  and  made  a  blessing  of  it.  They 
turned  darkness  into  light. 

A  friend  told  me  of  an  actress  who  had 
grown  grotesquely  fat,  prodigiously,  uncom- 
fortably fat,  but  turned  it  to  use  by  appear- 
ing on  the  stage  in  a  side-splitting  comedy. 
She  turned  a  burden  into  a  blessing,  both  for 
herself,  and  for  the  people  who  enjoyed  the 
performance. 

This  turning  the  black  thing  into  the 
Bright  thing  has  been  done  by  a  great  multi- 
tude of  people.  The  blind  Swiss  Naturalist, 
Francois  Huber,  wrote  the  best  book  on  Bees 
and  their  habits  that  ever  was  published  be- 


"COLOR-BLIND  PEOPLE"  13 


fore  the  exact  observations  of  our  modern 
biologists  began. 

The  blind  William  Hickling  Prescott  rilled 
your  library  shelves  with  some  of  the  most 
delightful  historical  books  that  are  there. 

Lord  Nelson,  who  won  the  Battle  of  Trafal- 
gar over  Napoleon  Bonaparte,  was,  at  the  time 
he  won  it,  an  Admiral,  with  only  one  eye  and 
only  one  arm. 

George  Eliot  who  wrote  Daniel  Deronda, 
and  Adam  Bede,  and  Silas  Marner,  and  The 
Mill  on  the  Floss,  and  so  on,  spent  more  than 
half  her  days  in  a  darkened  room  with  para- 
lyzing headaches. 

These  persons  took  the  darkness  God  sent 
them,  and  turned  it  into  light.  They  divided 
the  light  from  the  darkness.  Mr.  Herbert 
Spencer  used  to  tell  of  being  guided  through 
the  streets  in  a  dense  London  fog  by  a  man 
who  walked  with  sure  and  steady  steps,  while 
Mr.  Spencer  could  not  see  his  hand  before  his 
eyes;  and  he  afterwards  discovered  that  his 
guide  was  a  totally  blind  man  to  whom  the 
darkness  and  the  light  were  both  alike,  and 
who  chose  that  occupation  to  make  a  living. 

How  many  are  doing  it,  turning  the  dark- 
ness the  Father  sends  them  into  light  to 
brighten  other  lives!  How  many  of  the  poor 
and  the  suffering  open  their  lips  only  to  give 
praise  and  to  speak  good  cheer  to  others.    And 


14  "COLOR-BLIND  PEOPLE" 


if  you,  with  your  life  into  which  few  shadows 
have  fallen,  you  who  murmur  most  and  com- 
plain most,  if  you  could  know  of  the  burdens 
that  are  borne  by  the  heavy-laden  and  afflicted, 
borne  with  a  smiling  face,  some  of  you  would 
go  down  on  your  knees  in  the  dust  before 
them,  and  confess  that  they  are  as  high  above 
you  in  courage  and  valor  as  the  stars  are  above 
the  earth. 

In  this  same  first  chapter  of  Genesis,  it  is 
written,  "The  evening  And  the  morning  were 
the  first  day."  The  darkness  was  not  the 
day;  the  light  was  not  the  dav.  Thp  day  con- 
sisted of  the  evening  And  the  morning;  the 
admixture  of  darkness  and  light. 

And  you,  sirs,  have  not  lived  your  day  as 
God  means  you  to  live  it  unless  you  havfc 
taken  your  share  of  darkness  along  with  your 
share  of  light. 

There  are  privileged  persons  who  demand 
that  there  shall  be  no  shadows  in  their  lives, 
no  hardships.  They  would  be  carried  to  the 
skies  on  a  velvet  cushion.  Such  persons  are 
the  losers. 

We  need  to  touch  the  rough  places.  We 
need  to  be  hustled  and  jostled  by  the  sharp 
elbows  of  the  crowd;  we  need  to  be  brought 
into  contact  with  other  lives.  We  need  the 
strident  noises  to  jar  us  into  world-conscious- 
ness, the  honk  of  automobiles,  the  shouts  of 


"COLOR-BLIND  PEOPLE"  IS 


the  procession,  the  roar  of  commerce,  the 
rattle  of  the  electric  riveter,  the  blast  of 
screaming  police  whistles,  the  clang  of  brazen 
bells. 

We  need  these  things  to  startle  us  into 
activity.  They  are  not  pleasant,  but  they  are 
necessary.     They  tell  of  ongoing,  of  progress. 

We  may  run  away  from  them,  as  the  monks 
of  the  Middle  Ages  ran  away  from  the  sins 
of  the  world,  and  hid  themselves  in  caves  and 
dens;  but  worse  things  may  come  to  us  than 
those  we  have  escaped  from,  as  worse  things 
came  to  the  runaway  monks. 

We  may  stupify  our  senses  against  the 
darkness  by  draining  "long  goblets  of  the 
Golden  Wine  of  Cypress;"  by  indulging  in 
champagne  suppers;  by  making  life  all  gaiety 
and  high-jinks. 

We  may  turn  our  darkness  into  apparent 
light  by  drugging  ourselves  into  exhilaration. 
The  hasheesh  eater  goes  to  sleep  a  beggar, 
and  in  his  drugged  dream  he  sees  himself  the 
master  of  a  lustrous  palace,  attended  by  a 
thousand  slaves — but  wakes,  the  same  beggar 
that  went  to  sleep,  only  enfeebled  by  the  po- 
tion that  gave  him  one  night's  delight. 

We  may  run  away  from  the  crash  and  grind 
of  life,  but  if  we  do  that  we  shall  not  have 
lived  at  all.  We  must,  if  we  would  be  real 
men  and  women,  accept  both  the  darkness  and 


16  "COLOR-BLIND  PEOPLE" 


the  light.  If  we  plan  to  escape,  we  miss  every- 
thing that  goes  to  make  up  a  rounded  life. 

I  do  not  believe  there  are  any  useless  people 
in  the  world;  but  I  am  apprehensive  that  some 
persons  come  up  pretty  close  to  the  line  that 
divides  usefulness  from  uselessness,  and  they 
are  now  and  then  in  danger  of  stumbling  over 
the  line. 

Old  Isaac  Watts,  who  wrote  so  many  of  our 
Christian  hymns,  wrote  one  poem  that  is  not 
as  well-known  as  it  ought  to  be,  entitled  "In- 
significant Existence :" 

"There  are  a  number  of  us  creep 
Into  this  world  to  eat  and  sleep ; 
And  know  no  reason  why  they're  born 
But  only  to  consume  the  corn, 
Devour  the  cattle,  fowl,  and  fish, 
And  leave  behind  an  empty  dish. 

"Then,  if  their  tombstones,  when  they  die, 
Be'n't  taught  to  flatter  and  to  lie, 
There's  nothing  truer  can  be  said 
Than  this :  They've  eat  up  all  their  bread, 
Drank  up  their  drink,  and  gone  to  bed." 

Take  thy  place  in  the  ranks,  O,  man!  Ac- 
cept thy  share  of  darkness  along  with  thy 
share  of  light.  Bear  the  burden  the  Lord 
gives  thee,  and  bear  it  with  a  bright  face  and 
a  stout  heart. 

Now,  there  are  right  ways  of  escaping  from 
the  darkness.    You  can  do  it  without  denying 


"COLOR-BLIND  PEOPLE"  17 


that  there  is  any  darkness.  Denying  the  exis- 
tence of  darkness  will  not  emancipate  you, 
because  the  darkness  is  Here!  You  might 
deny  that  there  are  any  black  squares  on  the 
checker  board;  but  another  person  standing 
beside  you  might  deny  that  there  are  any 
white  squares  on  it — and,  between  you,  you 
would  be  persuaded  that  there  isn't  any 
checkerboard  at  all. 

The  way  to  escape  from  darkness  is  not 
to  try  to  escape  from  it.  You  can't  escape, 
if  you  do  try.  This  Book  does  not  promise  that 
the  Christian  believer  shall  have  no  sorrows, 
and  no  burdens  and  no  darkness.  When  we 
speak  of  our  blessed  Lord  Jesus  we  sometime? 
call  Him  the  Man  of  Sorrows. 

He  did  not  escape  from  sorrows,  and  His 
servant  James  did  not  escape,  nor  Stephen, 
nor  Peter,  nor  Paul.  They  were  acquainted 
with  the  darkness. 

The  one  who  believes  in  Jesus  gets  just  as 
many  sorrows  as  the  unbeliever.  Jesus  never 
promises  that  those  who  follow  Him  shall  have 
no  burdens  to  bear.  But  He  does  promise 
to  show  them  how  to  bear  their  burdens,  how 
to  make  their  burdens  seem  light.  He  teaches 
us  to  take  the  burdens,  and  to  turn  them  into 
good  for  the  blessing  of  others,  and  for  the 
blessing  of  our  own  selves. 

"The  Rich  Mrs.  Burgoyne,"  says  to  Joanna, 


18  "COLOR-BLIND  PEOPLE" 


"There's  one  sure  cure  for  the  blues,  in  this 
world,  Jo.  It's  safer  than  cocaine,  and  just 
as  sure.  "Go  and  do  something  you  don't 
want  to — for  somebody  else." 

Take  the  sunshine  God  gives  you,  my  people, 
and  go  out  and  scatter  it  over  others.  Carry 
your  armfuls  of  sunshine  into  regions  where 
men  and  women  sit  in  sullen  gloom. 

That  is  what  our  Missionaries  are  doing, 
carrying  sunshine  to  people  who  sit  in  dark- 
ness and  the  shadow  of  death — and  you  can 
be  a  Home  Missionary  by  carrying  the  sun- 
shine into  your  own  street,  and  even  into  the 
door  of  your  own  house. 

Learn  to  divide  the  light  from  the  darkness, 
and  then  leave  the  darkness  behind  and  carry 
the  light  with  you. 

Fill  not  your  memory  with  heartaches,  and 
calamities,  and  misfortunes  and  adversities, 
lest  your  silver  mesh-bag  turn  black ;  but 
fill  your  memory  with  the  sunny  things,  and 
the  joys  and  the  occasions  that  be  of  good 
cheer,  and  thus  go  through  life,  and  thus 
stand  at  last  before  the  King.  Don't  let  your 
darkness  spread.  Let  your  light  spread!  Let 
your  light  shine ! 

We  must  not  pass  hasty  judgment  upon 
any  of  the  providences  of  God.  Everything 
our  Father  sends  to  us,  is  right,  and  He  sends 
it  just  at  the  right  time,  could  we  but  know  it. 


"COLOR-BLIND  PEOPLE"  19 


We  are  Color-Blind,  all  of  us.  We  fail,  often- 
times, to  divide  the  light  from  the  darkness. 
Frequently  we  cannot  tell  which  is  light  and 
which  is  darkness.  That  which  we  once  call- 
ed darkness  turns  out  to  be  the  purest  light. 
Some  seeming  adversity  is  the  very  thing  that 
lifts  us  up. 

If  we  could  see  with  God's  eyes  there  would 
be  no  darkness.  In  God's  eyes  there  is  no 
such  thing  as  real  darkness.  There  are  no 
such  things  as  actual  calamities.  They  seem 
like  calamities  to  us,  because  we  are  Color- 
Blind. 

Every  life  has  its  mixture  of  the  colors ;  the 
reds,  the  yellows,  the  blues,  the  violets,  the 
indigos,  the  greens,  the  oranges. 

Have  you  visited  a  physical  laboratory 
where  they  were  showing  the  wonders  of  the 
solar  spectrum?  With  a  triangular  prism 
they  break  up  a  beam  of  white  light  into  a 
gorgeous  color-band  of  seven  hues.  They 
then  adjust  seven  concave  mirrors  along  the 
line  so  that  each  mirror  shall  catch  one  of  the 
brilliant  tints. 

Then  these  seven  mirrors,  one  after  another, 
are  focussed  upon  a  screen.  The  yellow  light 
is  focussed  upon  the  blue  light,  and  the  spot 
is  a  glowing  green;  the  red  is  then  turned  to 
the  same  spot,  and  it  becomes  a  radiant  orange. 

And  so,  mirror  after  mirror  sends  its  beam 


20  "COLOR-BLIND  PEOPLE" 


of  color  to  the  screen,  and  when  all  the  seven 
touch  the  spot  at  once,  it  is  a  spot  of  Light 
so  White  that  you  put  your  hand  before  your 
eyes. 

You  and  I  are  living  just  now  in  a  world 
of  broken  lights.  God's  scheme  in  our  lives 
is  not  completed  here.  Wait  until  He  takes 
us  into  His  Great  Laboratory,  by  and  by,  and 
gathers  up  all  the  colors  that  are  woven  into 
our  lives,  and  we  shall  see  them  combine  in 
a  radiance  that  shall  fill  our  lips  with  immor- 
tal song. 


. 


. 


Did  Germany 
Murder  Its  Bible? 


WILLIAM  H.  FISHBURN 


(Price  Ten  Cents) 


Did  Germany  Murder 
Its  Bible? 


By 

REV.  WILLIAM  H.  FISHBURN,  D.D. 


-0O0- 


A  Sermon  Delivered  in  West  Adams  Presbyterian 

Church,   Los   Angeles,   California, 

May  26,  1918 


Published  by  order  of  the  Session. 


Did  Germany  Murder  Its  J?ib!e? 


Amos  8:12,  They  shall  run  to  and  fro 
to  seek  the  word  of  the  Lord,  and  shall 
not  find  it. 


The  Bible  in  the  days  of  Amos  was  only  a 
little  Bible,  but  it  was  all  the  Bible  they  had. 
In  the  midst  of  great  national  prosperity  the 
people  forgot  God ;  they  forgot  prayer ;  they 
forgot  the  House  of  God;  they  went  their  own 
way  in  the  pursuit  of  pleasure. 

And  then  this  prophet  stood  up  and  tried  to 
arouse  them  and  to  bring  them  back  to  God. 
He  said  to  them,  in  our  lesson : 

"The  days  are  coming,  saith  the  Lord  God, 
that  I  will  send  a  famine  in  the  land,  not  a 
famine  of  bread,  nor  a  thirst  for  water ;  but  of 
hearing  the  words  of  the  Lord. 

"And  they  shall  wander  from  sea  to  sea,  and 
from  the  north  even  to  the  east ;  they  shall  run 
to  and  fro  to  seek  the  word  of  the  Lord,  and 
shall  not  find  it." 

People  who  have  the  Bible  sometimes  dis- 
regard it.  They  stop  reading  it.  They  put  it 
out  of  their  lives.  They  murder  their  own 
faith  in  it.  And  then  there  comes  a  terrible 
day  when  they  want  it  back ;  they  cry  for  it ; 
they  grope  for  it ;  they  yearn  for  their  old 
faith  ;  but  it  is  gone. 

A  speaker  at  one  of  our  Pan-Presbyterian 
Councils  a  number  of  years  ago  related  a 
"Persian  Fable"  which  I  remember  too  ob- 
scurely to  reproduce  it  in  its  full  beauty ;  but 
it  told  of  a  young  prince  who  brought  to  his 
royal  father  a  nutshell,  which,  opening  on  a 
hinge,  contained  a  magical   tent. 


Thisflittle  tent  was  oi  such  miraculous  con- 
^truouon  that,  when  spread  in  the  nursery,  the 
babes  could  play  beneath  its  folds. 

When  it  was  set  up  in  the  throne-room  the 
King  and  his  regal  company  could  converse 
under  its  shelter. 

When  opened  in  the  courtyard,  the  family 
and  all  the  servants  could  come  together  be- 
neath its  shadow. 

When  spread  wide  open  in  the  camp  where 
the  soldiers  were  training,  it  became  a  vast 
pavilion  in  which  the  whole  army  could  as- 
semble. 

Surely  this  little  tent  may  be  called  a  sym- 
bol of  God's  word.  Everything  is  contained 
within  the  nutshell  of  the  Bible.  Open  it  in 
the  nursery  and  the  parents  and  children  will 
gather  with  rapture  beneath  its  folds. 

Spread  it  in  the  courtyard,  and  the  entire 
household  may  assemble  for  morning  and 
evening  devotions  under  its  shelter. 

Set  it  up  in  the  village,  and  it  becomes  a 
church,  and  the  whole  town  sings  praises  to 
God  under  its  canopy. 

Pitch  it  upon  the  plain  and  a  great  army 
will  gather  within  it. 

Send  it  to  the  heathen  lands,  and  it  opens 
out  into  a  great  tabernacle  that  fills  and  cov- 
ers the  world. 

Does  our  civilization  owe  anything  to  the 
Bible?  Our  civilization  owes  everything  to 
the  Bible.  No  Bible,  no  civilization!  Our 
civilization  owes  it  to  the  Bible  that  it  is  de- 
livered from  superstition.  The  Bible  is  not  a 
Dream-Book.  It  is  not  a  puzzle-book.  It  is 
not  a  trick-book.  It  is  not  a  book  to  be  read 
in  the  dark.  Its  messages  are  as  clear  as  crys- 
tal. It  had  no  underground  crypts  in  it.  It 
4 


is  a  book  of  the  Open  Door.  When  you  study 
it,  study  it  in  the  light.  Take  it  out  where 
the  sunshine  can  smite  its  fair  pages  with 
white  light.  Show  it  to  the  world;  let  the 
world  study  it;  examine  it;  analyze  it.  It  can 
bear  investigation. 

The  Bible  gives  us  courage ;  it  gives  us 
hope ;  it  floods  our  souls  with  its  glowing  radi- 
ance. It  enables  us  to  see  a  light  that  shines 
beyond  this  world  and  projects  its  luster  over 
into  the  world  of  reality  on  the  other  side  of 
the  grave. 

Dr.  Bustard  says :  "If  we  do  not  believe  in 
the  authority  and  inspiration  of  the  Scriptures, 
we  shall  be  useless  in  Christian  service." 

This  is  the  Book  which  can  never  be  super- 
seded or  destroyed.  Men  have  dissected  this 
book.  They  have  burned  it  and  scattered  its 
ashes  upon  the  waters.  They  have  trampled 
it  under  the  feet  of  their  horses.  And  yet, 
every  book  in  this  old  volume  is  still  crying 
out  to  the  critics  what  Paul  said  to  the  jailer: 
"Do  thyself  no  harm;  we  are  all  here!" 

"This  little  Book  I'd  rather  own 
Than  all  the  gold  and  gems 
That  e'er  in  monarch's  coffers  shone, 
Than  all  their  diadems. 

Nay,  were  the  sea  a  chrysolite, 

The  earth  a  golden  ball, 
And  diamonds  all  the  stars  of  night, — 

This  Book  were  worth  them  all." 

Is  it  possible  to  murder  the  Bible?  No! 
Absolutely  no!  Should  this  earth  endure  for 
a  million  years,  and  then  for  millions  more, 
as  I  sincerely  and  devoutly  believe  it  will,  the 
Bible  will  be  the  one  document  that  will  retain 
its  youth   in   imperishable   splendor,   and   will 

5 


be  the  guide  of  the  footsteps  of  mankind 
through  the  ages  of  the  ages! 

It  is  not  possible  to  murder  the  Bible,  but 
it  is  entirely  possible  to  murder  one's  faith  in 
the  Bible,  to  murder  a  whole  nation's  faith  in 
the  Bible. 

You,  sir, — you, — you, — may  murder  your 
own  faith  in  the  Bible.  You  may  neglect  it. 
You  may  scorn  it.  You  may  despise  it.  You 
may  laugh  at  it.  And,  by  and  by,  on  some 
lonely  day  when  the  burdens  begin  to  break 
you,  and  dear  friends  have  gone  away  into  the 
Great  Silence,  and  the  skies  around  you  are 
growing  dark,  and  you  want  to  get  something 
out  of  the  Old  Book  to  help  you  and  to  sus- 
tain you  in  the  time  of  sore  testing,  you  may 
learn  that  that  something  has  vanished  away. 
You  have  murdered  your  Bible  by  murdering 
your  own  faith  in  your  Bible. 

It  is  written  in  this  Book  that  there  are 
some  things  that  one  can  do,  the  doing  of 
which  will  destroy  his  own  soul. 

We  are  going  to  ask  and  to  answer,  this 
hour,  the  question :  "Did  Germany  Murder  its 
Bible?"  Also  we  are  going  to  ask  the  ques- 
tion :  "Might  it  be  possible  for  America  to 
murder  its  Bible?"  And  another  question: 
"What  might  happen  to  those  who  murder 
their  Bible?"  And  yet  another  question:  "Will 
there  be  found  a  way  back  to  a  forsaken  and 
neglected  Bible?" 

I  believe  that  I  am  in  agreement  with  the 
majority  of  scholarly  men  when  I  say  that  it 
was  in  Germany  that  the  destructive  criticism 
of  the  Bible  had  its  birth.  It  was  in  Tubingen 
University  in  Germany  that  the  first  foun- 
tain of  deadly  unbelief  began  to  spurt  forth  its 
jets  of  intellectual  and  moral  and  spiritual 
poison.     The  section  of  Germany  that  consid- 


ers  itself  "learned, "  drank  that  poison  in  huge 
gulps  that  intoxicated  its  brain.  But  that 
same  subtle  venom  has  been  tasted  by  all 
Germany  and  has  cankered  and  polluted  all 
Germany,  and  has  spread  into  every  nation 
and  kindred  and  tongue  and  people  where 
German  literature  has  penetrated. 

Destructive  criticism  of  the  Bible  may  be 
stamped :  "Made  in  Germany." 

I  think  it  was  Ferdinand  Christian  Baur 
who  was  the  real  patentee  of  the  German 
Poison-Fountain.  He  was  Professor  of  Church 
History  at  the  University  of  Tubingen.  As  a 
church  historian  he  is  recognized  as  a  man  of 
distinguished  ability.  He  was  a  follower  of 
Hegel  in  his  philosophy,  and  a  large  propor- 
tion of  the  disciples  of  Hegel  become  critical 
and  distrustful  of  nearly  everything. 

This  Professor  Baur  insisted  that  the  dis- 
putation between  Paul  and  Peter  as  related  in 
the  book  of  Acts  was  never  settled,  and  that 
the  two  men  never  became  reconciled ;  that 
the  early  church  was  split  into  two  factions, — 
one  faction  standing  with  Paul  and  the  other 
with  Peter.  He  denied  that  Paul  wrote  any 
of  the  Epistles  that  bear  his,  name,  except 
First  and  Second  Corinthians,  Galatians,  and 
the  major  part  of  Romans. 

He  practically  ignored  in  his  earlier  writ- 
ings the  Gospel  accounts  of  the  Death  and 
Resurrection  of  our  Lord,  though  he  after- 
wards,— somewhat  reluctantly,  it  seems  to  me, 
and  with  mental  reservations, — assented  to 
the  Resurrection.  He  taught  that  the  advent 
of  Jesus  was  the  advent  of  Pure  Reason ;  that 
Pure  Reason  began  with  the  coming  of  Christ. 

From  this  noxious  thinker,  Baur,  and  from 
his  co-worker  in  unbelief,  David  Friederich 
Strauss,  the  poison  spread   like  an   infection. 


Following  them  came  Zeller  and  Schwegler, 
Koestlin  and  Planck,  Hilgenfeld  and  Holsten, 
Kuenen  and  Wellhausen,  Gunkel  and 
Procksch,  Schraeder  and  Spiegelberg, — men 
whose  names  could  hardly  be  mistaken  for 
Irish  names, — and  by  their  writings  they 
broke  down  and  destroyed  the  faith  of  all  Ger- 
many in  the  Inspiration  of  the  Bible  and  its 
great  messages.  Destructive  Criticism  bled 
the  faith  of  the  German  people  to  death. 

Very  hurriedly,  and  without  paying  much 
attention  to  their  historical  sequence,  let  me 
name  a  few  of  the  deliverances  of  the  school 
of  unbelief: 

Abraham  and  the  other  patriarchs  were  only 
myths;  Moses  is  not  to  be  considered  a  his- 
torical person.  Every  page  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment is  freckled  and  spotted  with  fable.  There 
is  no  such  thing  as  Sacred  History.  The  Pen- 
tateuch is  anonymous.  The  historical  books 
are  only  a  hodge-podge.  There  never  was  any 
Adam.  Paradise  is  a  fairy-tale.  There  never 
was  any  Fall  of  Man.  No  such  monument  as 
the  Tower  of  Babel  was  ever  built.  Human 
speech  was  never  stricken  with  confusion. 
There  never  was  such  a  person  as  Noah ;  and 
nobody  ever  built  an  ark ;  and  there  never  was 
a  universal  Flood.  The  story  of  Joseph  and 
his  Brethren  is  pure  folk-lore.  Samson  is  a 
made-up  hero  for  the  children.  The  champion, 
Goliath,  was  invented  by  David's  admirers. 
No  nation  ever  wandered  in  the  wilderness. 
The  Ten  Commandments  were  not  given  on 
Mount  Sinai.  The  Jordan  river  never  stopped 
in  its  course  since  it  began  to  flow.  There  is 
no  such  thing  as  Inspiration.  There  never 
were  any  miracles.  There  is  no  supernatural. 
The  books  of  the  Bible  are  to  be  placed  on  the 
same  plane  with  the  literary  remains  of  the 
pagan  nations,  Rome,  Greece,  and  India. 


These  are  a  few  of  the  things  that  were  ut- 
tered by  the  be-spectacled  scholars  of  Ger- 
many for  the  murdering  of  the  Bible,  or  for  the 
murdering  of  the  faith  of  the  people  in  the 
Bible. 

Professor  Beyschlag  of  the  University  of 
Halle,  at  a  Christian  conference  held  in  Ber- 
lin, when  destructive  criticism  was  at  the  peak 
of  its  popularity,  declared  that  there  was  not 
to  be  found  a  solitary  professor  in  a  German 
Institution  whose  orthodoxy  was  beyond  ques- 
tion on  the  subjects  of  Inspiration  and  the  Per- 
son of  Jesus  Christ. 

Germany  did  murder  its  Bible  by  murdering 
the  faith  of  its  people  in  the  Bible, — and  this 
accounts  for  the  inexcusable  and  unprovoked 
war  that  Germany  started  and  that  Germany 
is  waging  today  against  the  nations  of  the 
world. 

Germany  has  flung  the  Christian  God  out  of 
its  heaven  and  has  erected  a  sort  of  cast-iron 
devil  to  rule  in  God's  stead. 

Germany  has  taught  her  people  that  the  Ger- 
mans are  supermen,  destined  to  rule  all  other 
men,  and  to  trample  all  other  peoples  under 
their  feet. 

Mr.  Herman  Fernau  in  his  book,  "The  Com- 
ing Democracy,"  defines  German  "kultur"  as 
being  "Learning  without  character,  knowl- 
edge without  conscience,  organization  without 
humanity,  ideals  without  dignity." 

The  words  of  Mr.  Vachel  Lindsay  might  be 
applied  to  the  poisoned  German  soldier  whose 
belief  in  God  has  been  taken  away  from  him, 
whose  faith  in  the  Bible  has  been  stolen  from 
him,  who  is  only  a  poor  automaton,  slavishly 
obedient  to  the  commands  of  his  brutal  mili- 
tary masters: 

9 


"Not  that  they    starve,  but    starve  so  dream- 
lessly, 
Not  that  they  sow,  but  that  they  seldom 
reap; 
Not  that  they    serve,  but  have  no    gods  to 
serve ; 
Not  that  they  die,  but  that  they  die  like 
sheep." 

I  owe  you  an  apology,  sirs,  in  advance,  for 
now  plunging  you  into  a  bath  of  German  liter- 
ature; but  there  are  certain  writers  so  fre- 
quently named  in  our  speech  of  today  that  I 
have  thought  it  wise  to  make  selections  from 
some  of  the  books  of  Nietzsche,  Treitschke, 
and  Von  Bernhardi ;  and  then  from  the  utter- 
ances of  some  of  the  German  pastors,  in  order 
to  show  how  far  the  teachers  of  Germany 
have  departed  from  the  ethics  of  the  Bible. 

From  Nietzsche's  book,  "The  Antichrist,"  I 
copy  this:  "I  condemn  Christianity.  I  bring 
against  the  Christian  Church  the  most  terrible 
accusation  ever  voiced.  Christianity  is  to  me 
the  greatest  of  all  imaginable  corruptions.  I 
call  Christianity  the  one  immortal  blemish  on 
the  human  race." 

From  the  same  book:  "The  weak  must 
perish !  That  is  the  first  principle  of  our  char- 
ity.   And  we  must  help  them  to  perish." 

From  his  "Also  Sprach  Zarathustra" :  "One 
must  refuse  to  be  eaten  at  the  time  one  tast- 
eth  best." 

From  his  "Goetzendaemmerung" :  "The 
time  is  coming,  I  promise  it,  when  the  priest 
will  be  regarded  as  the  lowest  type,  as  the 
most  mendacious,  the  most  disreputable  vari- 
ety of  human  being." 

A  second  quotation  from  his  "Goetzendaem- 
merung": "The  man  who  is  truly  free  treads 

10 


under  foot  that  contemptible  species  of  secur- 
ity dreamt  of  by  shopkeepers,  Christians, 
cows,  women,  Englishmen  and  other  demo- 
crats.   The  free  man  is  a  fighter." 

Nietzsche  was  for  eleven  years,  from  1889 
till  1900,  a  madman.  He  died  insane  in  1900, 
— but  he  is  read  and  quoted  and  believed  in 
by  millions  in  Germany. 

Here  are  some  quotations  from  Von  Bern- 
hardt book,  "Germany  and  the  Next  War:" 
"The  proud  conviction  forces  itself  upon  us 
with  irresistible  power,  that  a  high,  if  not  the 
highest,  importance  for  the  development  of 
the  human  race  is  ascribable  to  the  German 
people." 

On  another  page :  "We  now  claim  our  share 
in  the  dominion  of  the  world,  after  we  have 
for  centuries  been  supreme  only  in  the  realm 
of  the  intellect." 

Another  page :  "Our  next  war  will  be  fought 
for  the  highest  interests  of  our  country  and 
of  mankind.  World-power  or  downfall/  will 
be  our  rallying  cry."  (Let  me  say  here  in  par- 
enthesis, that,  in  the  war  they  are  waging  just 
now,  it  is  downfall  that  is  awaiting  them.) 

Another  quotation :  "Is  the  weak  nation  to 
have  the  same  right  as  the  powerful  nation? 
The  very  idea  represents  a  presumptuous  en- 
croachment on  the  natural  laws  of  develop- 
ment." 

One  more  page  from  Von  Bernhardi : 
"Might  is  the  supreme  right,  and  the  dispute 
as  to  what  is  right  in  war  is  decided  by  the 
arbitrament  of  war.  War  gives  a  biologically 
just  decision." 

Here  are  a  few  quotations  from  the  war 
book  of  Henrich  Von  Trietschke :  "The  Ger- 
mans are  always  in  danger  of  forgetting  their 

11 


power  and  their  nationality  through  an  ex- 
cess of  modesty. " 

On  another  page:  "We  must  see  to  it  that 
the  outcome  of  our  next  successful  war  shall 
be  the  acquisition  of  colonies  by  any  possible 
means. " 

Another  quotation:  "This  Germany  of  ours 
was  once  the  greatest  of  sea-powers,  and,  God 
willing,  she  shall  be  so  again.,, 

One  more  quotation :  "It  is  not  worth  while 
to  speak  of  these  matters,  for  God  above  us 
will  see  to  it  that  war  shall  always  remain  as 
a  drastic  medicine  for  ailing  humanity." 

A  last  quotation  from  Von  Treitschke: 
"Merely  to  be  able  to  say,  'I  have  never  lied/ 
— this  is  nothing  but  a  monkish  type  of  mor- 
ality.,, 

And  now,  after  two  or  three  quotations 
from  the  Reverend  Clergy  of  Germany,  I  shall 
let  you  emerge  from  your  German  bath. 

It  must  be  remembered  that  these  words 
following  come  from  the  clergy  of  the  State 
Church,  who  speak  according  to  the  German 
Kaiser's  will. 

Here  is  a  quotation  that  ought  to  be  spoken 
in  a  whisper.  It  is  taken  from  a  sermon  by 
Rev.  H.  Francke:  "We  can  say  that,  as  Jesus 
was  treated,  so  have  the  patient  people  of  Ger- 
many been  treated." 

From  a  sermon  by  Rev.  F.  X.  Muench :  "Is 
not  our  Germany  itself  transformed  into  a  suf- 
fering Christ?" 

From  a  sermon  by  Rev.  Dr.  Preuss:  "Ger- 
many is  experiencing  a  repetition  of  the  Pas- 
sion of  Christ." 

Could  blasphemy  go  farther?  Has  Germany 
murdered  its  Bible?  Has  Germany  murdered 
truth?    Has  Germany  murdered  decency? 

I  quote  from  a  sermon  by  Rev.  M.  Hennig: 
12 


"Each  soldier  must  do  his  duty  so  that,  when 
he  shall  one  day  answer  the  heavenly  bugle- 
call,  he  may  stand  forth  with  a  good  con- 
science before  his  God,  and  his  old  Kaiser." 

This  bit  of  coarse  sacrilege  was  amplified  in 
a  magazine,  "The  Young  German's  Weekly," 
to  read  like  this :  "When  here  on  earth  a  bat- 
tle is  won  by  the  German  arms,  and  the  faith- 
ful ascend  to  heaven,  a  Potsdam  lance-cor- 
poral will  call  the  guard  to  the  door,  and  'Old 
Fritz/  (meaning  Almighty  God),  springing 
from  His  golden  throne,  will  give  the  com- 
mand :  'Present  arms  ¥  " 

There  you  have  it.  "Old  Fritz"  on  the 
throne  instead  of  God.  A  Potsdam  soldier  as 
the  orderly  of  high  heaven;  a  guard  of  Prus- 
sian soldiers  to  keep  the  door  of  heaven!  And 
then  add  to  this  the  Hymn  of  Hate  that  is 
sung  all  over  Germany,  and  you  will  be  ca- 
pable of  answering  the  question:  "Did  Ger- 
many murder  its  Bible?" 

Germany  did  murder  its  Bible.  Might  it 
be  possible  for  America  to  murder  its  Bible? 

Is  America  reading  its  Bible?  Is  America 
shaping  its  life  by  the  Bible?  Is  America 
obedient  to  the  mandates  of  the  Bible? 

Honor  bright,  sir,  how  many  hours  a  day  do 
you  spend  over  your  Bible?  How  many  min- 
utes a  day?  And  you, — and  you, — and  you? 
Do  you  ever  miss  a  day?  Do  you  ever  miss 
two  days?  Do  you  ever  miss  a  week?  Two 
weeks?  How  long  is  it, — be  honest, — how 
long  is  it  since  you  let  the  light  shine  on  your 
Bible  while  you  read  a  chapter  in  it  and  then 
got  down  on  your  knees  and  prayed  God,  for 
Jesus'  sake,  to  bless  that  chapter  to  the  heal- 
ing of  your  soul?    How  long  is  it? 

Are  you  murdering  your  Bible  by  neglect- 
ing  it?     Are   you   letting  yourself   drift,   and 

13 


drift,  and  drift,  farther  and  farther  away  from 
this  Book  that  is  a  Fountain  of  Light? 

Slow  poison  may  take  years  to  kill,  but  it 
kills.  In  the  "Count  of  Monte  Cristo"  you  are 
shown  a  case  of  slow  poisoning  which  is  as 
surely  murder  as  if  it  were  done  with  a  dag- 
ger. 

It  is  possible  for  the  Bible  to  be  murdered 
here  in  America. 

And  what  happens  to  those  who  murder  the 
Bible?  The  text  tells  you.  You  will  get  hun- 
gry for  a  taste  of  real  bread,  and  thirsty  for  a 
draught  of  real  water.  "They  shall  wander 
from  sea  to  sea,  and  from  the  north  even  to 
the  east,  they  shall  run  to  and  fro,  seeking, 
seeking  for  the  Word  of  God,  and  shall  not 
find  it."     Thus  it  is  written  here. 

I  wonder  how  many  persons  there  are  in 
this  room  who  are  wandering;  running  to  and 
fro!  I  wonder  how  many  persons  there  are  in 
this  room,  who,  at  some  time  in  their  lives, 
have  seriously  called  on  a  Moonshee,  a  Swami, 
a  Yogi,  a  Mahatma,  a  Guru,  or  the  Seventh 
Son  of  a  Seventh  Son, — persons  who  put  the 
opening  of  the  veils  of  the  future  on  a  dread- 
fully commercial  basis ! 

That  is  what  follows  the  forsaking  of  your 
Bible,  the  murdering  of  your  Bible.  You  drift. 
You  wander  about.  The  wires  are  down  be- 
tween you  and  the  Father  in  heaven. 

Maybe  you  have  money  and  much  of  it.  But 
your  money,  your  stocks  and  bonds,  your 
great  houses  of  merchandise,  your  miles  of 
railway  that  you  call  your  own, — these  do  not 
take  the  place  of  Jesus  Christ, — and  you  know 
it.  Your  soul  thirsts  for  God;  you  cry  out 
for  the  living  God.  "Give  me  Heaven !"  They 
want  heaven  to  speak  by  wire  or  by  wireless. 

The  sorest  tragedy  that  can  overtake  a  hu- 
man soul  is  to  have  faith  in  the  Bible  eclipsed ! 
14 


God  blotted  out!  Christ  blotted  out!  Hope 
blotted  out! 

We  spoke  here  last  Sunday  morning  about 
the  reasons  for  the  war  in  Europe.  This  pres- 
ent war  did  not  burst  upon  the  world  without 
a  sufficient  cause.  It  was  Germany,  God-de- 
fying Germany,  Bible-murdering  Germany, 
that  danced  around  its  witches*  caldron,  and 
sang  the  weird  dirge,  "Double,  double  toil 
and  trouble, — fire  burn  and  caldron  bubble !" 
It  was  because  there  was  no  Christ  love  to 
restrain  them,  no  words  of  authority  out  of 
the  sacred  Book  to  bridle  and  suppress  them, 
that  blood-lust,  lust  for  dominion,  lust  for 
power  possessed  them,  and  they  began  a  ma- 
niacal warfare  that  can  have  but  one  possible 
ending, — the  crushing  and  humiliating  and 
dismembering  of  the  German  Empire. 

Civilization  will  never  again  be  safe, — and 
civilization  knows  it  now, — until  it  wrenches 
the  sword  out  of  Germany's  hand  and  splint- 
ers it  to  pieces! 

God  has  His  high  purposes  in  this  war.  He 
means  to  bring  back  to  mankind  a  high  and 
holy  faith. 

In  America  there  are  individuals  who  have 
murdered  their  Bible;  in  Germany  there  is  a 
whole  nation,  Kaiser,  warriors,  philosophers, 
professors,  preachers,  citizens,  school-boys, 
school-girls, — down  to  the  humblest  crafts- 
man, the  obscurest  vassal,  who  have  scorned 
the  Bible,  who  have  struck  the  Bible  in  the 
face. 

God  will  see  to  it  that  those  who  want  their 
faith  in  the  Bible  to  come  back  shall  have  that 
faith  again.  God  will  see  to  it  that  the  Light 
shall  break  again  over  the  many  who  now  sit 
in  darkness  and  are  praying  for  the  return  of 
the  Light. 

15 


Amid  the  encircling  gloom  there  is  only  one 
light  that  is  safe  to  follow,  and  that  is  the 
light  that  shines  from  the  Cross  of  our  dear 
Lord.  "All  the  light  of  sacred  story  gathers 
round  its  head  sublime." 

Kossuth  used  to  say,  speaking  of  the  march 
of  intelligence :  "I  know  that  the  light  has 
spread,  and  that  even  the  bayonets  think." 

It  is  my  own  fixed  belief  that  the  devil  is 
just  now  taking  his  last  horseback  ride  across 
the  plains  of  Europe. 

I  do  not  believe  for  one  moment  that  the 
consummation  of  the  age  is  near  or  that  the 
final  catastrophe  is  approaching.  The  Golden 
Age  is  not  past.  The  Golden  Age  is  coming. 
God  the  Father  has  uses  for  this  fine  old  world 
that  is  not  yet  half-finished,  and  He  is  not 
going,  suddenly,  to  burn  it  up  or  blot  it  out. 

There  is  a  vision  fairer  than  any  dawn  that 
is  going  to  be  thrown  upon  the  screen  to  be 
looked  at  by  this  world's  tomorrow. 

The  war  will  pass  and  peace  will  come.  Un- 
belief will  pass  and  faith  will  come.  God's 
Word  will  take  its  place  in  the  van  of  civiliza- 
tion, and  all  the  nations  of  the  world  will  walk 
together  in  the  Light  of  it. 

We've  traveled  together,  my   Bible  and  I, 
Thro'  all  kinds  of  weather,  with  smile  or  with  sigh; 
In   sorrow   or   sunshine,   in   tempest   or   calm, 
Thy    friendship    unchanging, — my    Lamp    and    my 
Psalm. 

We've  traveled  together,  my   Bible  and  I, 

When   life   has   grown   weary,  and   death,  e'en,   was 

nigh. 
But  all  thro'  the  darkness  of  mist  and  of  wrong, 
I've  found  Thee  a  solace,  a  prayer  or  a  song. 

Shall  I  now  give  Thee  up,  Thou  Revealer  of  Light? 
Thou  Sword  of  the  Spirit,  put  error  to  flight; 
And  thro'  my  life's  journey,  until  my  last  sigh, 
We'll  travel  together,  my  Bible  and  I. 

Free  Tract  Society  Print. 
746  Crocker  St.,  Los  Angeles,  Cal.,  U.  S.  A. 


aces 


By 
Rev.  William  H.  Fishburn,  D.  D. 


A  Sermon  Delivered  in  West  Adams  Presby- 
terian Church,  Los  Angeles,  California 
May  31,  1914 


Many  Faces  in  One 


Ezek.   1  :S-6.     "They  had  the  likeness  of  a 
man.    And  every  one  had  four  faces." 


We  are  told  that  there  is  one  place  in  the 
Pacific  Ocean  where  the  water  is  32,085  feet 
deep — that  is,  more  than  six  miles  deep. 

There  are  many  places  in  our  Bible  where 
the  water  is  more  than  six  miles  deep — and 
one  of  them  is  in  the  Book  of  Ezekiel. 

When  we  open  the  Book  of  Ezekiel  without 
caution,  we  are  likely  to  tumble  in  beyond 
our  depth.  I  am  always  afraid  of  drowning 
when  I  study  the  Book  of  Ezekiel,  because 
many  a  time  I  have  plunged  headlong  into  it, 
and  have  come  out  of  it  more  dead  than  alive. 

There  are  depths  in  Ezekiel  so  profound 
that  they  have  never  been  measured — but  if 
ever  there  shall  come  some  student  wise 
enough  and  skilled  enough,  and  with  a  line 
long  enough  to  dip  his  bucket  to  the  bottom 
of  Ezekiel,  his  bucket  will  come  up  filled  to 
the  brim  and  dripping  with  pure  liquid  gold. 

I  am  not  ashamed  to  confess  fear  in  studying 
Ezekiel.  Better  men  than  I  have  feared  to 
plunge  into  the  unsounded  depths  of  his  mys- 
tical Book. 

There  are   speculative  writers   who  profess 


"FACES" 


to  find  forecasts  in  Ezekiel  of  some  of  the 
great  inventions  that  have  come  since  his  day. 
When  he  spoke  of  moving  wheels  with  fire 
between  the  wheels,  they  surmise  that  he  fore- 
saw the  Locomotive ;  that  the  color  of  amber 
fire  which  he  saw  in  the  midst  was  the  flaring 
Headlight;  that  his  winged  chariots  lifted  up, 
with  wheels  underneath  standing  still,  imaged 
forth  the  Aeroplane ;  that  his  revolving  wheel 
with  another  revolving  wheel  spinning  in  the 
middle  of  it  was  a  mental  picture  of  the  Gyro- 
scope, and  so  on.  But  this  is  pure  fanciful- 
ness,  and  puts  a  severe  strain  on  an  intelligent 
imagination. 

Dr.  Henry  Maudsley,  the  physiologist,  after 
a  hasty  and  unsympathetic  study  of  Ezekiel, 
did  not  hesitate  to  say  that  the  Prophet  was 
a  demented  man,  a  man  gone  stark  mad.  But, 
have  not  our  clever  writers  said  something 
like  that  about  every  pioneer,  about  every  dis- 
coverer, about  every  exalted  man  who  sees 
visions  or  dreams  dreams? 

I  respect  Dr.  Maudsley;  I  have  high  regard 
for  his  excursions  into  the  realm  of  mental 
physiology,  but  I  feel  that,  so  far  as  his  criti- 
cism of  Ezekiel  goes,  it  is  the  criticism  of  a 
man  with  a  wooden  head,  and  the  Book  of 
Ezekiel  was  not  written  for  men  with  wooden 
heads. 

To  me  Ezekiel  is  a  man  of  strong  mind  and 


'FACES" 


crystal  brain,  who  sees  visions  that  cannot  be 
written  down  in  the  inadequate  language  of 
earth.  When  I  stand  in  the  midst  of  his  Book 
I  shade  my  eyes  with  my  hand  to  lessen  the 
blaze  of  intolerable  splendor  that  smites  me. 
To  me  the  fire  that  bursts  out  in  terrible  in- 
candescence before  Ezekiel  is  the  glory  of 
God;  the  Powers  that  flash  and  fly  and  burn 
are  the  servants  of  God,  hastening  to  do  God's 
bidding;  the  wheels  represent  the  omnipres- 
ence of  God;  the  eyes  innumerable  represent 
the  omniscience  of  God.  He  tells  us,  himself, 
in  his  Book,  that  the  heavens  were  opened, 
and  that  he  saw  visions  of  God. 

We  cannot  help  being  afraid  of  Ezekiel  with 
a  reverent  fear  when  he  takes  us  into  the 
Presence  Chamber  of  God;  but  we  can  stand 
beside  him  without  fear,  though  not  without 
wonder,  when  he  shows  us  this  Image  of  a 
Man. 

"Out  of  the  midst  (of  the  fire)  came  the 
likeness  of  four  living  creatures — and  this  was 
their  appearance.  They  had  the  likeness  of 
a  Man — and  every  one  had  four  faces  .  .  . 
As  for~the  likeness  of  their  faces,  they  four 
had  the  face  of  a  Man,  and  the  face  of  a  Lion 
on  the  right  side,  and  they  four  had  the  face 
of  an  Ox  on  the  left  side,  they  four  also  had 
the  face  of  an  Eagle." 


"FACES" 


We  can  understand  Ezekiel  in  some  mea- 
sure when  he  speaks  about  a  Man. 

"They  had  four  faces."  Four  faces  in  one 
face.  I  think  it  is  a  composite  picture  of  a 
man's  face  that  Ezekiel  sees;  and  he  sees  that 
face  dissolving  into  another  resemblance  as 
he  fixes  his  eyes  upon  it.  It  is  truly  a  Man's 
face  as  he  first  looks  at  it;  but  after  long  look- 
ing at  it  the  Man's  face  seems  to  melt  away, 
and  he  sees  the  courageous  face  of  a  Lion ; 
the  Lion-face  fades  out,  and  he  seems  to  see 
the  patient  face  of  an  Ox;  the  Ox-face  dis- 
solves away,  and  he  beholds  the  far-seeing 
face  of  an  Eagle.  He  is  looking  at  a  Man, 
and  in  the  Man's  face  he  sees  the  combined 
faces  of  the  Lion,  the  Ox,  and  the  Eagle. 
There  is  only  one  human  face  before  him,  but 
he  sees  many  natures  in  that  one  face. 

Victor  Hugo  says :  "Ezekiel  saw  the  quad- 
ruple man — man,  ox,  lion,  eagle — that  is,  the 
master  of  thought,  the  master  of  the  field,  the 
master  of  the  desert,  the  master  of  the  air." 
It  is  one  of  Victor  Hugo's  fine  picture  sen- 
tences. 

Ezekiel  sees  many  natures  in  one  face — 
and  he  seems  to  be  telling  us  that  God's  ideal 
Man  is  the  man  who  combines  the  self-control 
of  a  man  with  the  patient  strength  of  an  ox, 
the  courage  of  a  lion,  and  the  vision  of  an 
eagle. 


"FACES" 


You  have  read  some  of  the  books  on  phren- 
ology, physiognomy,  palmistry,  passing  fads 
which  presume  to  tell  what  is  in  a  man  by 
looking  at  some  portion  of  the  outside  of  him. 
Nearly  everybody  plumes  himself  on  being  a 
physiognomist,  a  reader  of  human  faces. 

There  are  few,  perhaps  none,  who  can  really 
read  faces,  because  the  mobile  face  is  one  of 
the  most  crafty  and  cunning  of  deceivers; 
and  those  who  most  frequently  get  fooled  in 
human  character  are  the  ones  who  imagine 
that  they  can  read  the  human  Face. 

The  face  does  not  always  tell  the  truth.  In 
one  of  your  old  romances  a  man  enters  a  com- 
pany with  the  majestic  mien  and  bearing  of  a 
king,  and  the  people  bow  before  him,  believ- 
ing that  he  is  the  king — but  it  transpires  that 
he  is  a  convict  who  has  filed  off  his  fetters  and 
has  fled  from  a  penal  colony.  And  in  another 
of  the  tales  of  long  ago  there  rides  upon  a 
stage-coach  a  man  with  the  face  of  an  uncon- 
querable hero,  and  the  travellers  feel  secure 
in  his  companionship — but  he  runs  like  a 
frightened  rabbit  when  highwaymen  attack 
the  coach. 

The  face  does  not  tell  what  is  in  the  man. 
The  face  is  not  an  infallible  index  of  character. 
Here  and  there  we  see  human  faces  bearing 
the  configuration  of  the  tiger,  the  goat,  the 
bull-dog,  the  fox,  the  wolf,  though  the  individ- 


'FACES" 


ual  bearing  the  face  may  not  possess  one 
marked  characteristic  of  the  animal  resembled. 
We  are  likely  to  make  mistakes  when  we  look 
only  at  the  outside  of  a  man  to  learn  what  is 
in  him. 

It  is  written  in  this  Book:  "Man  looketh 
upon  the  outward  appearance ;  but  the  Lord 
looketh  upon  the  heart." 

Our  Lord  Jesus  looked  past  the  face;  He 
looked  upon  the  heart.  Jesus  once  saw  the 
proud  Pharisees  in  their  blue  robes  and  their 
crimson  girdles  going  past  an  unhappy  Jew 
who  was  sitting  at  the  door  of  the  custom- 
house— going  past  him  with  averted  faces,  and 
holding  their  stiff  skirts  away  lest  they  should 
be  polluted  by  the  man's  touch.  And  our 
Saviour  went  up  to  the  man  and  touched  him 
— touched  the  despised  creature,  looked  him 
through  and  through,  and  saw  royal  man- 
hood in  him,  and  called  him  to  be  an  Apostle. 
Jesus  saw  past  the  outward  appearance;  He 
saw  the  beautiful  Soul  of  Matthew. 

Jesus  saw  a  man  worth  saving  in  the  poor 
broken  tramp  who  came  over  the  hills  one 
day,  hungry  and  wretched  and  in  rags — and 
He  spoke  the  sweetest  words  that  ever  fell 
from  any  lips,  about  the  saving  of  the  Prodigal 
Son. 

Jesus  once  saw  a  woman  whom  self-right- 
eous men  hated  and  hounded  and  howled  at 


"FACES" 


and  wanted  to  stone  in  the  public  street — and 
he  stepped  between  her  and  her  enraged  pur- 
suers and  sheltered  her  and  rescued  her  and 
saved  her,  and  she  is  one  of  those  who,  today, 
are  walking  in  heaven  clothed  in  white  rai- 
ment because  she  loved  much  and  was  much 
forgiven.  "Man  looketh  upon  the  outward 
appearance;  but  the  Lord  looketh  upon  the 
heart. 

"They  had  the  likeness  of  a  man.  And  ev- 
ery one  had  four  faces."  That  is  to  say,  ev- 
ery one  had  four  dispositions,  four  potentali- 
ties,  four  different  capacities,  four  personali- 
ties, either  of  which  might  become  dominant. 

Dr.  Patrick  Fairbairn,  quoting  from  Dr. 
Lange,  sees  in  this  passage  in  Ezekiel  the  fol- 
lowing: "Man,  in  his  ideality,  the  center  of 
life  which  conditions  all  the  other  life-forms, 
the  highest  form  of  animal  life — Man ;  the  suf- 
fering and  bleeding  life-form,  the  sacrificial 
and  bleeding  animal,  the  Ox;  the  ruling  life- 
form,  exhibiting  itself  in  royal  freedom,  the 
Lion;  and  the  life-form  which  soars  above  the 
earth,  free  from  toil,  engaged  in  vision,  the 
Eagle."  He  sees  these  four  capacities  hidden 
in  every  man. 

Every  person  born  comes  Into  the  world 
with  these  four  potentialities.  You,  sir,  and 
you,  show  forth  at  different  times  the  qualities 
of  all  the  four.    Sleeping  in  every  baby's  cradle 


10  "FACES" 


are  the  potentialities  of  man,  ox,  lion,  eagle. 
Which  shall  dominate  the  life  of  the  child? 
You,  sir,  and  you,  are  a  quaternion  of  natures 
— four  natures  bound  indissolubly  together — 
men,  ox,  lion,  eagle. 

It  is  as  if  there  were  three  press-buttons  at 
your  elbow,  and  you  can  touch  either  button, 
evoking  at  your  will  the  ox,  the  lion  or  the 
eagle  as  occasion  may  require ;  or  you  can 
touch  at  once  the  three  buttons  and  command 
the  attendance  of  the  combined  three.  They 
are  your  servants,  your  obedient  slaves,  like 
the  Jinns  in  the  Arabian  Tales ;  but  woe  be 
unto  you  if  any  one  of  these  servants  shall 
become  your  master,  if  the  ox  or  the  lion  or 
the  eagle  shall  dethrone  the  Man  and  become 
the  ruler  of  the  Man. 

When  you  go  about  your  tasks  without  joy, 
in  mere  stupid  obedience  as  one  laboring  only 
through  fear  of  the  goad,  it  is  the  Ox  that  is 
dominating;  when  a  sudden  fury  of  temper 
overcomes  you,  clouding  your  mind  with  de- 
sire for  revenge,  it  is  the  Lion  that  is  driving 
you ;  when  you  forsake  the  path  of  duty  and 
fall  into  long  and  idle  dreaming,  it  is  the  Eagle 
that  is  mastering  you. 

Ezekiel  probably  knew  nothing  about  ex- 
perimental psychology,  but  he  was  inspired  of 
God  to  put  this  touch  of  Evolution  in  his  book, 
that  man  is  born  into  the  world  with  no  less 


"FACES"  11 


than  Four  Natures.  Modern  evolution  goes 
farther  and  proclaims  that  every  quality  of 
every  animal  is  latent  in  man. 

But,  remember  that  every  man  born  is  born 
a  Man.  Man  is  a  free  being.  His  circum- 
stances do  not  make  him.  God  has  given  to 
him  the  dower  of  Liberty.  He  may  become 
a  worthless  vagabond  by  letting  go  of  him- 
self; or  he  may  become  a  useful  member  of 
society  by  the  grace  of  Christ  and  the  exer- 
cise of  his  own  will. 

It  is  true,  to  a  certain  extent,  that  we  take 
after  our  ancestors,  but  it  is  also  true  that  we 
can  choose  which  ancestor  we  shall  take  af- 
ter. We  have  the  power,  as  Mr.  Barrett  puts 
it  in  one  of  his  books,  of  "mending  our  ances- 
tors. "  Our  heavenly  Father  has  given  us  In- 
dividuality. Each  of  us  is  separate  from  ev- 
erybody else.  If  we  had  some  bad  ancestors 
we  can  put  them  down,  and  take  after  our 
good  ancestors.  Our  ancestors  do  not  make 
us.     We  make  ourselves. 

Dr.  James  Devon  in  his  "The  Criminal  and 
the  Community,"  says:  "Everybody  likes  to 
put  the  blame  for  his  badness  on  his  ancestors; 
but  it  is  more  profitable  to  teach  the  man, 
and  to  encourage  him  to  do  well,  than  to  stand 
by  and  praise  him  while  he  curses  his  grand- 
father." 

You  are,  yourself,  sir,  an  accountable  being 


12  "FACES" 


before  God,  and  whatever  ancestry  is  back  of 
you,  God  will  give  you  the  power  to  shake  off 
the  evil  of  it  and  to  use  the  good  of  it. 

"They  had  the  likeness  of  a  man.  And  ev- 
ery one  had  four  faces."  This  word  of  God 
may  be  used  to  teach  us  that  we  are  divinely 
equipped  to  occupy  different  spheres ;  that  we 
are  divinely  appointed  to  different  vocations. 
Every  one  has  his  place;  and  blessed  is  the 
man  who  finds  his  place  and  fills  it  and  re- 
joices in  it.  But  a  great  many  of  us  are  try- 
ing to  do  the  thing  for  which  we  are  not  fitted. 
We  attempt  to  defy  nature;  we  essay  to  do 
the  things  nature  never  meant  us  to  do. 

You  can't  put  the  wings  of  an  eagle  on  an 
ox  and  expect  the  ox  to  ascend  and  fly  over 
the  mountains,  any  more  than  you  can  put 
horns  and  hoofs  on  an  eagle  and  expect  the 
eagle  to  eat  hay  out  of  a  manger.  You  can't 
put  the  lion  in  plow-harness  and  make  him  a 
beast  of  draught  or  a  beast  of  burden.  The 
ox  is  meant  to  fill  the  ox's  place,  the  lion  the 
lion's,  the  eagle  the  eagle's. 

There  are  almost  innumerable  persons  out 
of  their  proper  places.  Sydney  Smith  sug- 
gested that  if  holes  were  bored  in  a  table, 
some  of  the  holes  round,  some  square,  some 
triangular — and  if  human  beings  were  repre- 
sented by  pegs,  some  square  pegs,  some  round 
pegs,  some  triangular  pegs — human  life  would 


"FACES"  13 


show  us  that,  frequently,  the  triangular  pegs 
got  into  the  square  holes,  the  round  pegs  into 
the  triangular  holes,  and  the  square  pegs  into 
the  round  holes. 

Blessed  is  the  man  who  finds  his  proper 
place  in  life.  Many  men  miss  their  calling  at 
first,  and  find  it  only  after  a  second  or  a  third 
trial. 

Mr.  James  Whitcomb  Riley  believed  that  he 
was  meant  for  a  sign-painter,  but  God  meant 
him  for  a  poet,  and  we  are  glad  that  he  found 
his  rightful  place. 

Sir  Isaac  Newton's  mother  wanted  to  make 
a  farmer  of  the  man  who  became  the  mathe- 
matician, the  investigator,  the  discoverer. 
Handel's  father  was  a  doctor,  and  he  did  not 
want  his  son  to  be  a  doctor  but  a  lawyer — 
but  the  son  was  born  an  eagle — his  place  was 
above  common  men,  high  up  in  the  musical 
sky,  to  compose  Hallelujah  Choruses,  and  to 
fill  the  world  with  melody.  Mr.  A.  T.  Stew- 
art was  ambitious  to  be  a  preacher,  and  he 
studied  for  it  and  failed ;  then  he  tried  to  be  a 
teacher  and  failed ;  then  he  went  into  business, 
and  became  one  of  the  leading  merchants  of 
his  time.  Blessed  is  the  man  who  finds  his 
place.  Alas  for  the  man  who  becomes  one  of 
the  misfits  in  the  Great  Plan.  There  is  whole- 
some truth  as  well  as  biting  humor  in  some 


14  "FACES" 


burlesque  lines  that  I  copied  from  Walt  Mason 
the  other  day: 

"So  many  men  now  wield  the  pen 

Who  should  be  herding  cattle; 
So  many  shirks  who  should  be  clerks 

Now  make  the  welkin  rattle. 
So  many  fakes  are  filling  dates 

As  Hamlet  or  Othello, 
Who  ought  to  rush  and  get  a  brush 

And  paint  a  cow-shed  yellow." 

"While    knights    and    peers    are    auc- 
tioneers, 

And  blacksmiths  are  musicians; 
And  gifted  bards  are  spading  yards, 

And  grocers  are  physicians." 

I  believe  our  Maker  meant  us  to  aspire, 
meant  us  to  fill  the  largest  place  we  are  ca- 
pable of  filling;  but  I  am  sure  that  He  did  not 
mean  us  to  contemn  or  to  despise  the  lowlier 
place,  the  humbler  place. 

When  Jesus  was  here  among  men  He  show- 
ed us  that  what  we  call  the  humble  place  is 
really  the  high  place.  The  Master  spent  thirty 
years  of  His  life  in  a  workingman's  home  and 
in  a  carpenter's  shop.  He  said  more  than  once, 
"I  am  among  you  as  He  that  serveth."  One 
of  His  beautiful  sayings  is,  "Whosoever  will 


"FACES"  15 


be  great  among  you,  let  him  be  your  Servant." 

"As  for  the  likeness  of  their  faces,  they  four 
had  the  face  of  a  Man  and  the  face  of  a  Lion 
on  the  right  side;  and  they  four  had  the  face 
of  an  Ox  on  the  left  side;  they  four  also  had 
the  face  of  an  Eagle." 

Ezekiel  to  whom  this  Vision  came  saw  the 
Ox  man  at  work.  He  speaks  in  his  vision  of 
the  River  Chebar.  It  was  not  a  River.  It  has 
been  identified,  by  modern  excavators  as  a 
Canal  just  east  of  the  ancient  site  of  Nippur, 
and  now  called  Kabaru. 

It  was  a  Canal,  and  the  Ox  men  were  dig- 
ging it.  And  who  were  these  Ox  men?  They 
were  Hebrew  slaves  who  had  been  brought 
from  their  own  country.  Some  of  them  had 
been  Princes  and  Nobles ;  they  had  been  men 
of  soft  hands,  men  of  gentle-birth,  but  their 
task-masters  made  Ox  men  of  them.  They 
gave  them  spades  and  mattocks  and  picks  and 
sent  them  out  to  dig  under  the  hot  Babylonian 
sky. 

Ezekiel  was  himself  a  Hebrew  slave,  and  he 
was  acquainted  with  these  men  who  had  been 
turned  into  Ox  men.  He  looked  at  them  as 
they  toiled  in  that  repulsive  ditch.  He  saw 
the  Man's  face  in  their  face.  He  saw  the  Lion's 
face  in  their  face.  He  knew  that  the  blood 
of  the  Lion  of  the  Tribe  of  Judah  was  racing 
in   their  veins.     He   saw   the   Eagle's   face   in 


16  "FACES" 


their  face,  the  Eagle's  face  that  sees  visions, 
the  face  with  the  power  to  get  above  the 
earth,  the  type  of  face  that  composes  Psalms 
and  writes  Prophecies  and  gives  the  world  a 
Bible! 

And  these  were  the  men  that  were  turned 
into  Ox  men  by  the  Babylonians,  these  poets, 
these  musicians,  these  scholars — these  men 
who  once  had  worn  the  purple  and  the  fine 
linen !  Yes,  sirs,  but  you  must  not  pity  them. 
Ezekiel  saw  the  great  mystery  of  human 
adaptability.  He  saw  that  they  possessed  a 
God-given  quality  that  fitted  them  to  be  Ox 
men  when  the  moment  of  necessity  came. 

Every  normal,  healthy  man  is  dowered  with 
the  attributes  of  the  Ox,  is  able  to  work  hard 
and  to  work  submissively  in  case  of  need. 
God  made  all  of  us  for  hard  work.  We  can 
do  hard  work.  We  are  able  to  do  hard  work. 
Our  innate  power  to  adapt  ourselves  to  our 
surroundings  is  something  to  be  wondered  at. 

The  position  of  the  ox  in  the  economy  of 
nature  is  not  dishonorable  but  honorable.  You 
do  not  pity  the  ox.  You  admire  his  strength. 
You  let  him  pull  his  huge  load  with  straining 
shoulders  and  smoking  withers.  You  praise 
him.  He  is  built  for  hard  work.  God  so  put 
him  together  that  he  is  able  to  do  hard  work. 

And  God  meant  us  for  hard  work.  You 
must   not   give  your   pity  to   the   strong   man 


"FACES"  17 


who  toils.  He  is  fitted  for  toil.  The  digger, 
the  delver,  the  lifter  with  the  hundred  arms 
of  Briareus  is  able  to  do  hard  work.  He  is 
needed  in  this  world.  The  men  with  the 
strength  of  the  ox  who  bore  tunnels  and  lay 
railway  tracks  and  build  aqueducts  are  needed. 
We  might  spare  some  of  the  merely  orna- 
mental people,  and  be  little  the  poorer,  but  we 
could  not  spare  the  man  with  calloused  palms 
and  sunburnt  face — the  man  who  toils. 

And  if  your  Lord  calls  you  out  of  luxury 
into  labor,  my  people,  if  He  lays  heavy  bur- 
dens upon  your  backs,  bear  the  burdens  pa- 
tiently as  the  uncomplaining  ox  bears  his 
burden.  If  your  Lord  calls  you  to  laborious 
work,  if  he  says,  "Come,"  be  ready  to  follow 
Him  barefoot  to  the  edge  of  the  world. 

Hard  work  is  honorable  work.  Murillo,  in 
one  of  his  fine  pictures,  gives  us  his  concep- 
tion of  the  nobility  of  humble  labor.  In  the 
picture  are  Angels,  and  they  are  all  at  work 
in  a  plain  kitchen.  When  you  look  at  the  pic- 
ture you  see  one  of  the  angels  setting  the  ket- 
tle over  the  fire;  one  of  them  is  spreading  the 
table-cloth ;  one  of  them  is  bringing  the  dishes 
from  the  cupboard.  They  are  all  engaged  in 
doing  the  simple  and  humble  things. 

"As  for  the  likeness  of  their  faces,  they  four 
had  the  face  of  a  Man  and  the  face  of  a  Lion." 

We  do  possess  the  patience  of  the  Ox;  but, 


18  "FACES" 


woven  into  the  warp  and  woof  of  our  nature, 
says  this  God-inspired  man,  we  possess  the 
characteristics  of  a  Lion.  Do  not  forget  that 
a  portion  of  the  blood  that  beats  through  your 
heart  is  Lion's  blood,  and  that  God  put  that 
blood  there,  and  that  He  put  it  there  for  a 
purpose. 

Our  artists  depicture  the  Lion  as  a  creature 
of  majestic  calm;  as  possessing  courage  that 
will  not  flinch ;  as  ready  to  fight  for  his  con- 
sort and  for  his  offspring.  Dr.  Livingstone 
told  us  long  ago  that  the  Lion  bears  pain  he- 
roically ;  that  he  cannot  be  cowed  even  by 
deadliest  pain. 

Now,  my  people,  our  modern  civilization 
seems  to  be  attempting  wholly  to  extinguish 
the  Lion  in  us — not  merely  to  restrain  him, 
not  merely  to  put  him  in  leash,  but  to  abolish 
him  altogether. 

Through  the  mail,  recently,  I  got  a  circular 
from  one  of  the  advocates  of  "Peace  At  Any 
Price, "  which  requested  me  never,  never  to 
announce  such  hymns  as  "Onward  Christian 
Soldiers/'  and  "Soldiers  of  Christ,  Arise,"  and 
"Am  I  a  Soldier  of  the  Cross,"  and  "O,  Watch 
and  Fight  and  Pray,"  and  a  score  or  two  of 
other  hymns  with  "Soldiers"  and  "Fight"  in 
them,  because  such  hymns  with  such  words 
had  a  tendency  to  stir  up  the  "War-spirit."  I 
dropped  the  circular  into  my  waste-basket. 


"FACES"  19 


You  see,  there  are  docile  souls  who  do  not 
ask  us  merely  to  restrain  the  Lion;  they  ask 
us  to  exterminate  him.  I  suspect  they  would 
have  us  sing  at  every  service:  "We  Are  Thy 
Timorous  Sheep." 

Now,  let  me  say  it  with  unmistakable  em- 
phasis— for  Peace  in  the  Name  of  Christ  all 
around  the  world  I  do  stand  with  my  whole 
heart!  For  the  End  of  War  between  nations 
and  peoples  I  do  stand  and  I  do  pray  from 
the  deepest  depths  of  my  being!  Let  there  be 
no  misapprehension  about  that! 

But,  for  the  extinction  of  the  Lion  that 
fights  against  wrong,  against  oppression,  I  do 
not  stand ;  for  the  cowardly  administration  of 
justice  in  some  of  our  courts  which  has  be- 
come a  joke,  I  do  not  stand;  for  obsequious- 
ness and  cringing  to  men  and  women  who 
openly  defy  the  law  I  do  not  stand.  God  put 
the  blood  of  the  Lion  in  us  for  a  good  and 
wise  purpose. 

The  day  may  come  when  the  Hymn-book 
shall  be  sterilized;  but  if  the  Bible  shall  ever 
be  sterilized  of  its  swords  and  helmets  and 
targets  and  spears  and  shields  and  soldiers 
and  fightings  and  battlings  aaginst  the  devil 
and  all  his  works,  there  will  be  little  left  in  it 
to  thrill  the  blood. 

In  Percy's  Reliques  we  read  of  a  Dragon 
which   came  out  of  a  stagnant  lake  and   de- 


20  "FACES" 


voured  maidens — one  maiden  being  its  daily 
feast.  A  maiden  must  be  chained  to  a  stake 
each  night  to  furnish  the  Dragon's  repast  for 
the  coming  morning.  St.  George  came  and 
fought  the  Dragon,  and,  after  much  peril  of 
battle,  slew  it,  and  saved  the  maidens.  Mr. 
Chesterton  says:  "If  St.  George  were  living 
in  our  day  he  would  not  conquer  and  kill  the 
Dragon;  he  would  tie  a  pink  ribbon  around 
its  neck  and  give  it  a  saucer  of  milk." 

Sirs,  all  the  steps  up  which  civilization  has 
ascended  are  stained  with  blood,  with  the  lion- 
like blood  of  men  and  women  who  fought 
against  wickedness,  who  would  not  compro- 
mise with  wickedness — men  and  women  who 
endured  hardship,  and  expected  pain,  and  were 
not  afraid  of  pain.  They  had  the  blood  of  the 
Lion  in  their  veins. 

St.  Paul  had  the  blood  of  the  Lion  in  him  all 
his  life.  He  was  like  a  Lion  when  he  fought 
with  the  beast-men  at  Ephesus.  Nearly  his 
last  words  were,  "I  have  fought  a  good  fight." 
St.  Paul  did  not  go  tip-toeing  to  heaven  in 
velvet  slippers ;  he  went  in  much  heaviness 
and  hardness  to  heaven,  wearing  the  rough 
iron  shoes  of  a  Soldier. 

"They  four  also  had  the  face  of  an  Eagle." 
All  of  us  have  flowing  in  our  veins  not  only 
the  blood  of  the  Ox  and  the  blood  of  the  Lion ; 
we  have,  also,  some  drops  of  the  blood  of  the 


'FACES"  21 


Eagle.  The  Eagle  that  stirs  within  you  is 
the  seer  of  Visions. 

They  could  make  an  Ox  of  Ezekiel's  body 
on  that  hot  Babylonian  plain,  but  they  could 
not  imprison  the  man's  Spirit.  His  Spirit  was 
an  Eagle  that  soared  high  above  that  ditch  in 
the  desert,  and  saw  visions  the  like  of  which 
God  has  given  to  few  of  His  children. 

Our  Lord  has  rightly  put  us  together.  He 
has  given  us '  Manhood  to  domniate  all,  and 
under  the  dominion  of  the  Man  He  has  placed 
within  us  the  nature  of  the  Ox  to  labor  or  to 
be  offered  as  a  sacrifice  on  the  altar;  of  the 
Lion  to  face  without  flinching  all  the  conflicts 
of  life ;  and  of  the  Eagle  to  lift  itself  above  all 
storms,  to  swim  up  there  in  the  uninterrupted 
sunshine — to  see  supernal  visions. 

And  all  of  that  the  Lord  bequeaths  to  us 
that  we  may  become  Men,  real  Men  who  are 
worthy  to  live  forever;  that  we  may  come, 
after  all  the  storms  are  ended,  "unto  a  full- 
grown  Man,  unto  the  measure  of  the  stature 
of  the  fulness  of  Christ." 

Go  on,  brave  Soul,  bear  thy  burdens  and 
dream  thy  dreams!  Scale  the  ladder  of  the 
skies ;  and  then  take  the  Eagle's  wings  and 
leave  the  ladder  behind,  and  go  upward  into 
the  secret  places  of  His  pavilion,  upward  into 
the  places  of  great  quiet  where  God  is.     Thou 


22  "FACES" 


canst  do  it.  God  has  endowed  thee  with  the 
power  to  do  it.  He  has  given  thee  the  Eagle's 
wings.    Use  thy  wings! 


•;&;^M%M^I:-  \  .'■  #^^lil 


FALLEN  GATES 


WILLIAM  H.  FISHBURN 


(Price  Ten  Cents) 


The  Fallen  Gates 
of  Civilization 


<2^»«o- 


By 
REV.  WILLIAM  H.  FISHBURN,  D.D. 


-0O0- 


A  Sfrmon  Delivered  in  West  Adams  Presbyterian 

Church,    Los   Angeles,    California, 

May  19,  1918 


Published  by  order  of  the  Session. 


The  Fallen  Gates 

Of  Civilization 


Nch.    2:13,    "I     went     out    by    night 

and     viewed     the     walls     of 

Jerusalem,    which     were    broken     down, 

and    the    gates    thereof    were    consumed 

with  fire." 


How  the  ancient  Hebrew  did  love  Jerusa- 
lem, the  Holy  City !  He  fell  on  his  face  in  rap- 
ture when  he  beheld,  standing  on  a  mountain 
top,  his  temple,  a  vision  of  gold  and  marble, 
reflecting  the  first  flash  of  the  morning  sun 
from  its  shining  pinnacles! 

"Beautiful  for  situation,  the  joy  of  the  whole 
earth,  is  Mount  Zion,  the  City  of  the  Great 
King/'  sang  the  opening  chorus  in  Solomon's 
Temple  three  thousand  years  ago;  and  the 
antiphonal  chorus,  led  by  the  silver  trumpets, 
sent  back  the  answering  song:  "Let  Mount 
Zion  rejoice!  Let  the  daughters  of  Judah  be 
glad!" 

For  hundreds  of  years,  for  nearly  five  hun- 
dred years,  the  historians  say,  the  city  of  Jeru- 
salem grew  great  and  rich,  and  the  glorious 
temple  stood  there  on  its  hilltop  saluting  the 
morning  sun.  Vast  wealth  accumulated.  Tar- 
gets of  beaten  gold  hung  massively  on  palace 
walls.  There  were  chests  filled  with  jewels  of 
price.  There  were  treasures  of  ivory.  Silver 
was  as  plentiful  as  stones  in  the  city  streets. 
Jerusalem  was  a  prize.  It  was  crammed  with 
rich  booty.  It  was  tempting  to  the  greedy 
eyes  of  Nebuchadnezzar,  King  of  Babylon.  It 
was  a  city  to  be  looted.  It  was  a  storehouse 
to  be  pillaged. 


And  Nebuchadnezzar  came  upon  it  with  his 
strong  army.  He  besieged  it.  He  conquered 
it.  He  fAltd  his  wagons  with  the  wealth  of 
it.  He  beat  down  its  twenty  Gates  with  his 
battering  rams.  He  broke  down  its  walls  of 
stone.  He  burnt  with  fire  its  temple,  its  pal- 
aces, its  mansions,  its  homes,  its  houses  of 
merchandise. 

He  found  a  city  of  beauty.  He  left  it  flat- 
tened down  to  the  ground, — a  smoking  ruin. 
He  put  its  people  in  chains  and  carried  them 
away  as  captives. 

This  Nebuchadnezzar,  king  of  Babylon,  was 
the  Great  Red  Hun  of  thousands  of  years  ago, 
the  pre-historic  Hun, — and  his  soldiers  were 
the  Huns  of  Old  Testament  times,  murdering, 
pillaging,  looting,  ravishing,  burning,  destroy- 
ing, enslaving, — turning  fine  silk  into  sack- 
cloth, turning  beauty  into  ashes. 

For  fifty-two  years  after  this  fiend-man  had 
wrought  his  will  upon  it,  Jerusalem  remained 
a  ruin.  Then  a  Temple  was  built  to  take  the 
place  of  Solomon's  Temple.  The  Temple  stood 
in  the  midst  of  broken  walls  and  fallen  gates 
for  seventy  years,  and  then  Nehemiah  came, 
Nehemiah,  the  man  with  a  vision,  Nehemiah, 
the  man  of  dauntless  courage, — and  inspired 
the  people  to  rebuild  the  broken  walls  and  to 
lift  up  the  fallen  gates. 

It  was  an  evil  day  for  Jerusalem  when  her 
walls  were  broken  down  because  the  broken 
walls  made  her  defenseless  before  her  enemies. 
But  there  are  some  separating  walls  that 
ought  to  be  broken  down,  that  ought  to  be 
removed  forever,  and  that  must  inevitably  be 
removed  before  our  civilization  can  become 
truly,  "A  Parliament  of  Man,  a  Federation  of 
the  World." 

We  of  the  United  States  can  never  again 


think  of  ourselves  as  a  walled-in  people,  as  a 
separate  people  living  here  in  our  own  quiet 
corner  of  the  earth  and  looking  out  for  no- 
body but  ourselves. 

The  walls  between  the  great  Republics, 
America,  France,  England,  Belgium,  Italy, 
China  have  gone  to  pieces  and  the  nations 
that  believe  in  "governments  of  the  people,  by 
the  people  and  for  the  people"  are  beginning 
to  see  each  other  eye  to  eye  and  face  to  face 
as  a  great  Brotherhood. 

It  will  be  a  good  thing  when  the  wall  be- 
tween labor  and  capital  shall  be  broken  down 
to  be  built  up  never  again. 

It  will  be  a  good  thing  when  the  wall  be- 
tween religious  sects  which,  down  in  the  bot- 
tom of  their  hearts,  believe  in  the  same  God, 
in  the  same  Holy  Spirit,  in  the  same  Christ, 
shall  be  broken  down,  shall  be  ground  into 
fine  dust,  shall  be  blown  away  by  God's  great 
purifying  winds — and  every  believer  in  our 
Lord  shall  be  to  every  other  believer  in  our 
Lord  Jesus  as  a  brother  unto  brother. 

The  walls  that  separate  believer  from  be- 
liever are  becoming  so  thin  and  transparent 
that  bye  and  bye  a  child  will  be  able  to  over- 
throw them  with  its  little  hand.  These  walls 
are  not  defenses  but  menaces.  They  hinder 
more  than  they  help. 

But  the  walls  about  Jerusalem  were  neces- 
sary. They  were  a  defense.  They  prevented 
the  wolves  from  devouring  the  sheep.  And  it 
was  a  good  day  for  Jerusalem  when  Nehemiah 
came  and  awakened  the  people  to  rebuild  the 
walls  and  to  set  up  the  fallen  gates. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  when  Nebuchadnez- 
zar came  down  upon  Jerusalem  with  his  hosts 
of  armed  men,  the  citizens  asked,  "Why  does 
God  permit  this?     If  God  is  God  why  is  our 


repose  disturbed?  Why  is  our  pleasant  dream 
shattered?    Why  doesn't  God  interfere?" 

They  asked  those  questions  just  as  tens  of 
hundreds  of  people  are  asking  today:  "Why 
doesn't  God  stop  the  war?"  "Why  does  He 
permit  these  monstrous  wrongs  to  go  on?" 
"Is  there  any  reason  for  this  war?"  "Is  there 
any  God  at  all?"    "Did  it  just  happen?" 

Now,  sirs,  if  you  are  in  any  doubt  about  the 
existence  of  God,  you'd  better  get  that  doubt 
out  of  your  mind ;  and  if  you  think  this  war 
came  upon  our  world  without  any  reason, 
you'd  better  get  that  thought  out  of  your 
mind. 

God  is  looking  on  at  this  war  and  sorrow- 
ing. And  there  is  a  reason  for  it,  a  sufficient 
reason  for  it. 

When  you  get  home,  read  the  second  chap- 
ter of  Jeremiah  if  you  want  to  know  the  rea- 
son why  Jerusalem  was  pillaged,  her  temple 
destroyed,  her  walls  torn  down,  her  gates 
broken,  her  people  enslaved.  Here  are  the 
twelfth  and  thirteenth  verses  of  the  chapter, — 
"Be  ye  astonished,  O  ye  heavens,  at  this,  and  be 
ye  horribly  afraid,  be  ye  very  desolate,  saith 
the  Lord.  For  my  people  have  committed 
two  evils ;  they  have  forsaken  me,  the  fountain 
of  living  waters;  and  they  have  hewn  them 
out  cisterns,  broken  cisterns  that  can  hold 
no  water." 

And  verse  19  reads:  "Thine  own  wicked- 
ness shall  correct  thee,  and  thine  own  sins 
shall  rebuke  thee." 

Read  the  chapter  at  home  and  think  about 
it,  and  you  will  be  sure,  jut  as  I  am  sure,  that 
it  is  not  God  who  is  smiting  us  with  a  scourge, 
but  that  our  own  sins,  our  own  remissnesses, 
national  sins  and  personal  sins,  are  smiting  us 
in  this  war  with  a  whiplash  that  draws  blood. 


Don't  you  imagine  for  a  moment  thajt^this 
war  is  an  accident.  Doh't  >yda  imagine  fbr  a 
moment  that  God  has  forgotten  us.,  God  is 
pitying  us.  God  is  trym£4oxo;mpel  us  to  set 
up  again  in  their  places  the  Gates  that  are 
broken  down,  the  Fallen  Gates  of  Civilization. 
Don't  you  imagine  for  a  moment  that  God  is 
going  to  let  the  world  go  on  to  destruction. 
This  war  is  designed  to  save  it  from  destruc- 
tion, to  save  it  from  destroying  itself,  to  turn 
it  back  from  the  slippery  incline  down  which 
it  has  been  rushing  at  a  great  speed  for  many 
a  year. 

Do  you  believe  that  men  can  go  on  age  after 
age  and  defiantly  break  the  good  and  holy 
laws  that  are  written  in  this  dear  Book  and 
never  be  called  before  the  bar  of  jutice  and 
never  be  made  to  pay  the  penalty? 

Do  you  believe  that  our  own  America  that 
men  are  dying  for,  and  that  you  would  be 
willing  to  die  for  and  I  would  be  willing  to 
die  for,— do  you  believe  that  our  America  is 
able  to  lift  up  clean  white  hands,  and  that  it 
would  be  found  guiltless  before  God?  Is  there 
no  sin  in  America  that  needs  to  be  scourged 
out  of  America?  Are  not  there  some  Fallen 
Gates  in  America  that  need  to  be  lifted  up  and 
repaired  ? 

Has  not  the  Gate  of  Reverence  fallen  in 
America,  reverence  for  God's  Name,  reverence 
for  God's  Book,  reverence  for  God's  command- 
ments, reverence  for  God's  house,  reverence 
for  God's  Day? 

Has  not  the  Gate  of  Justice  fallen  down? 
Is  not  Justice  flaunted  in  her  own  temples? 
Does  not  a  slobbering,  maudlin  sympathy  set 
free  bad  men  and  bad  women  as  if  there  were 
no  laws  written  in  our  statute  books? 

Has    not    the    Gate    of    the    Family    Altar 

7 


Fallen?  Who.  is  -  linking  about  Family 
Prayer?  Who  feels  nowadays  that  Family 
Prayer  is  the  biggest,  sweetest  thing  in  family 
lite.? 

Are  not  there  liberal  religions,  so-called, 
that  have  pushed  away  the  old  Cross  with  its 
Gospel  of  blood  and  suffering  and  pain,  that 
have  put  the  mania-to-be-well  in  place  of  the 
Cross  of  Jesus,  and  that  would  be  ready  to 
blast  the  Rock  of  Ages  from  its  everlasting 
foundations  and  crumble  it  to  powder? 

Listen,  sirs,  to  the  audible  speech  of  men 
and  women  in  the  open  marketplaces  if  you 
would  know  whether  sacred  things  are  held 
in  veneration ;  whether  there  is  a  real  fear  of 
God  before  the  eyes  of  a  multitude  of  man- 
kind ;  whether  decency  is  regarded ;  whether 
old  age  is  respected ;  whether  God's  name  is 
reverenced ! 

We  have  erred  and  strayed  from  God's  ways 
like  lost  sheep  and  we  need  to  be  brought 
back.  God  loves  us  and  He  is  going  to  bring 
us  back. 

The  life  we  are  living  here  was  never  meant 
to  be  smooth  and  easy.  It  is  meant  to  forge 
character  on  the  anvil  of  hardship,  sometimes 
on  the  anvil  of  burning  pain. 

Let  us  confess  it,  my  people,  we  have  tried 
to  get  away  from  discipline.  We  have  tried 
to  thrust  God  and  religion  out  of  our  lives 
and  to  let  go  of  ourselves  and  have  our  own 
way.  We  have  grown  effeminate.  We  desire 
softness.  We  wish  for  pampering  and  cosset- 
ting  and  indulging  and  petting.  We  have 
lapsed  into  softness.  So  did  the  people  of  the 
Great  Monarchies.  So  did  they  of  Greece.  So 
did  they  of  Rome.  And  those  nations  were 
blotted  out  of  the  books. 

We  need  to  learn  hardness,  discipline,  obe- 


dience.  Professor  William  Lyon  Phelps  has  a 
fine  essay  on  "Courtesy"  in  which  he  says, 
"Military  training  teaches  obedience,  a  quality 
that  our  youth  sorely  need  to  acquire ;  we  need 
to  learn  politeness.  No  other  nation  has  neg- 
lected politeness  as  we  have  done." 

I  want  to  say  something  about  military 
training  as  a  means  whereby  we  may  learn 
politeness  and  obedience;  whereby  we  may 
get  rid  of  our  flabbiness,  spiritual  flabbiness, 
mental  flabbiness,  physical  flabbiness;  where- 
by we  may  learn  to  endure  hardness,  to  take 
our  punishment  standing  up,  to  be  strong- 
hearted,  to  be  unafraid. 

The  school  of  war  has  its  value  as  a  maker 
of  Christian  manhood.  It  is  not  only  a  maker 
of  soldiers  for  our  armies.  When  you  look  at 
what  war-training  has  already  done  for  our 
young  men,  you  cannot  help  giving  praise  to 
war-training.  War-training  lifts  up  stooped 
shoulders,  pushes  out  a  flattened  chest,  gives 
a  spring  to  the  step  and  a  look  of  unquailing 
manliness  to  the  eye. 

Unless  we  are  ready  to  let  our  civilization 
go  headlong  into  bankruptcy,  we  must  have 
military  training.  Personally  I  believe  in  uni- 
versal military  training.  If  we  had  adopted 
universal  military  training  three  and  one-half 
years  ago  we  could  put  an  arm  across  the 
seas  today  and  take  Prussia  by  the  throat  and 
strangle  her  to  death.  Those  who  say:  "I 
didn't  raise  my  boy  to  be  a  soldier"  ought  to 
be  asked,  "What  did  you  raise  him  to  be  ?  Did 
you  raise  him  to  be  a  mollycoddle?" 

I  believe  every  boy  ought  to  be  taught  the 
manly  art  of  self-defense.  I  believe  every  boy 
ought  to  learn  at  what  point  the  trigger  is 
placed  on  a  rifle,  how  to  take  aim  at  a  mark 
and  how  to  hit  the  mark  he  aims  at. 


There  is  a  line  Biblical  authority  for  mili- 
tary training.  There  was  good  red  blood  in 
the  veins  of  King  David  when  he  wrote  that 
battle-song  in  the  144th  Psalm:  ''Blessed  be 
the  Lord  my  strength,  which  teacheth  my 
hands  to  war  and  my  fingers  to  fight."  The 
Scottish  Presbyterians  have  made  a  church 
hymn  of  that  Psalm  and  they  sing  it  with  en- 
thusiasm, and  that  may  account  for  the  grim 
steadiness  of  the  Scottish  soldiers  aim  and 
the  splendid  virility  of  his  onslaught. 

In  our  lesson  the  fallen  walls  were  rebuilt 
and  the  gates  were  lifted  up  and  put  back  on 
their  hinges.  The  walls  of  our  civilization  are 
broken  and  many  of  the  Gates  of  our  civiliza- 
tion are  fallen,  but  every  broken  wall  is  going 
to  be  rebuilt  and  every  fallen  Gate  is  going  to 
be  restored  to  its  place.  Our  soldiers  who  are 
gone  to  Europe  and  who  are  going  to  Europe 
are  going  as  builders.  They  are  going  to 
build  up  the  broken  walls  and  to  lift  up  the 
fallen  gates. 

Is  everybody  in  America  standing  back  of 
our  soldiers?  Is  everybody  in  America  doing 
everything  to  cheer  our  soldiers?  Is  every- 
body in  America  doing  everything  within  his 
power  and  her  power  to  win  the  war  and  to 
destroy  the  Hun? 

On  the  contrary  there  are  many  who,  openly 
or  secretly,  are  doing  their  utmost  to  hinder 
the  winning  of  the  war  and  the  destroying  of 
the  Hun. 

Nehemiah  in  our  lesson  paid  small  attention 
to  the  hinderers  outside  the  walls,  but  he  gave 
some  attention  to  the  hinderers  on  the  inside. 
He  had  his  hinderers  and  also  he  had  his  way 
of  hindering  them  from  hindering.  You  must 
read  between  the  lines  to  know  what  Nehe- 
miah   did  with    the  hinderer.     The    hinderer 

10 


never  hindered  anybody  else  after  Nehemiah 
gave  him  one  treatment. 

Amongst  the  hinderers  who  would  paralyze 
the  President's  hands  if  they  could,  who 
would  make  this  war  a  colossal  failure  if  they 
could,  who  would  put  the  iron  yoke  of  Prussia 
on  your  neck  and  mine  if  they  could,  I  would 
name  an  array  of  evil  and  disloyal  persons, — 
alien  enemies,  profiteers,  alien  grumblers,  I. 
W.  W/s,  slackers,  spies,  pacifists,  cowards, 
brewers,  saloons,  bootleggers,  those  human 
coyotes  who  corrupt  the  soldier;  and  along 
with  them  I  would  mention  agitators  who 
make  inflammatory  and  malicious  speeches, 
newspapers  that  think  evil  and  disloyalty  in 
their  hearts  and  print  carefully  camouflaged 
evil  and  disloyalty  in  their  editorial  lines,  and 
that  ought  to  be  suppressed  and  suppressed 
without  delay. 

Our  national  government  has  been  patient, 
miraculously  patient  with  these  hinderers. 
They  would  not  be  permitted  in  Hunland.  Let 
anyone  in  Germany  obstruct,  and  that  one  will 
speedily  find  himself  shut  up  in  jail  or  stand- 
ing with  his  back  against  a  stone  wall.  The 
Atchison  Globe  says,  "In  Germany  there  are 
practically  no  spies.  Why?  Because  they 
shoot  them;  and  it  doesn't  make  any  differ- 
ence whether  they  wear  trousers  or  petti- 
coats." 

There  are  other  hinderers, — persons  who  im- 
agine that  they  are  optimists,  who  will  tell 
you  they  are  certain  the  war  will  be  over  by 
the  15th  of  next  month;  pessimists,  who  break 
your  heart  with  mournful  wailing  about  the 
power  of  the  Hun  and  the  total  impossibility 
of  beating  him.  They  worry  and  worry  and 
worry.  One  of  them  was  found  the  other  day 
after  a  splendid  Allied  victory  with  his  head 

11 


bent  down,  worrying.  His  companion  asked 
him  what  he  was  worrying  out  and  he  replied : 
"I'm  worrying  about  what  I'm  going  to  be 
able  to  worry  about  after  the  war  is  over  and 
there's  nothing  left  to  worry  about/' 

There  is  another  group  of  hinderers  that  it 
would  not  be  fair  nor  right  to  leave  unmen- 
tioned,  and  they  are  to  be  found  amongst  our 
United  States  Senators  and  Congressmen  who 
let  things  go  all  to  sixes  and  sevens  until  some 
calamity  is  impending,  and  then  make  frothy 
speeches  and  offer  fatuous  resolutions,  and 
beg  excitedly  for  the  opening  of  a  series  of 
"investigations"  to  find  out  why  things  hap- 
pened just  the  way  they  happened. 

I  suppose  you  will  admit  that  our  present 
Congress  is  not  composed  entirely  of  strong 
and  great  men.  There  are  few  of  them  who 
would  be  worth  painting  by  an  artist,  though 
I  imagine  a  number  of  them  might  be  the  bet- 
ter for  a  little  white-washing. 

Thinking  of  and  speaking  of  the  hindered  is 
not  a  pleasant  task,  but  thinking  of  and  speak- 
ing of  the  Helper  is  a  pleasant  task,  and 
thanks  be  to  God,  in  the  setting  up  of  the 
Fallen  Gates  the  Helpers  are  far,  far  in  the 
majority.  There  are  thousands  upon  thou- 
sands, there  are  millions  upon  millions,  who 
are  willing  Helpers.  They  are  to  be  found  in 
every  section  of  society. 

In  our  lesson  of  today  it  is  written,  "The 
nobles  put  not  their  necks  to  the  work  of  the 
Lord."  Our  nobles  today  have  put  their  necks 
in  the  yoke  of  military  service.  This  is  not 
a  rich  man's  war;  it  is  not  a  poor  man's  war. 

Both  the  rich  and  the  poor  of  America,  both 
the  rich  and  the  poor  of  the  Allied  Powers  are 
in  it,  and  in  it  up  to  the  neck. 

The  very  flower  of  England's  men  went  to 

12 


France  the  first  year  of  the  war,  and  the  vast 
majority  of  them  are  there  now,  sleeping  un- 
der the  sod,  between  the  Channel  and  the 
Vosges.  "More  than  a  million  of  Frenchmen 
and  Englishmen,"  says  Mr.  James  M.  Beck, 
"are  sleeping  their  last  sleep  in  the  now  for- 
ever sacred  soil  of  France." 

Everyone  ought  to  feel  the  hurt  of  this  war. 
Some  of  us  are  shut  out  of  actual  participation 
in  it  by  infirmity,  by  age, — but  all  of  us  may 
be  helpers.  There  are  some  who  are  shut  out  of 
actual  participation  by  cowardice.  But  there 
are  some  cowards  who  know  they  are  cow- 
ards and  who  pray  God  to  give  them  courage. 
We  were  told  quite  recently  of  a  young  man 
in  Pennsylvania  who  had  straw-colored  hair, 
and  who  requested  the  prayers  of  the  pastor 
and  people,  in  order  that  he  might  become  red- 
headed. 'He  had  heard  that  red-heads  were 
brave  fighters  and  he  was  praying  the  Lord 
to  give  him  red  hair  so  that  he  might  go  forth 
and  fight  the  Kaiser.  He  wanted  to  be  a 
helper. 

We  are  living,  sirs,  in  the  time  of  testing, 
the  times  that  try  what  sort  of  stuff  we  are 
made  of.  We  are  passing  through  the  period 
of  blood  and  iron.  Talk  will  not  win  the  war ; 
sermons  will  not  win  the  war;  but  money  will 
greatly  contribute  to  the  winning  of  the  war. 
We  have  been  asked  for  money.  We  are  go- 
ing to  be  asked  for  more  money,  and  then  af- 
ter that  for  more  money,  and  as  long  as  our 
dear  boys  are  "over  there"  we  are  going  to 
be  asked  to  give  money. 

The  "Boy   Scouts"  are  helping  by  button- 
holing us  to  buy  War  Saving  Stamps.    At  the 
Malabar   Street   School,   last   week,   the   chil- 
dren    went    out,    250    strong,    and    paraded 
13 


through  their  school  district,  and  sang  war- 
time songs  like  this: 

"Sing  a  song  of  war-time,  a  country  full  of 

camps ; 
Fifty  million  patriots  buying  Saving  Stamps. 
See  the  pennies  flowing  in  a  golden  stream 
To  keep  the  soldiers  going  and  to  smash  the 

Kaiser's  dream." 

A  man  over  age  cannot  be  drafted  to  lick 
the  Kaiser,  but  he  can  lick  a  Thrift  Stamp, 
which  is  along  the  same  line.  The  Dallas 
News  says,  "A  patch  on  your  trousers  may  be 
regarded  as  a  thrift  stamp." 

Tomorrow  will  start  the  week  of  the  Red 
Cross  Drive  for  one  hundred  millions  of 
money.  Our  lesson  tells  us  that  the  women 
helped  in  the  work  of  lifting  up  the  Fallen 
Gates.  "Shallum,  the  ruler  of  the  half  part  of 
Jerusalem,  repaired  his  portion,  he  and  his 
daughters. 

These  blessed  women,  who  are  working  in 
the  Red  Cross  and  for  the  Red  Cross  are  real 
women.  They  do  not  belong  to  the  clinging 
vine,  coddling,  sick-minded  class  of  women. 
They  are  clear-headed,  forward-looking,  bal- 
anced-minded women, — women  who  are  not 
afraid  of  danger  or  of  death. 

The  first  ladies  of  the  land,  together  with 
the  second  ladies  of  the  land  and  all  the  other 
ladies  of  the  land  are  serving, — are  knitting, 
sewing,  rolling  bandages,  making  garments, 
nursing  the  wounded  and  the  sick, — are  doing 
their  bit  towards  forwarding  the  work  of  the 
Red  Cross.  Titled  English  women  are  driv- 
ing plows  and  harrows;  are  acting  as  chauf- 
feurs. It  was  told  in  one  of  our  public  prints 
that  Lord  Hargraves  jumped  into  a  motor-car 
in  London  and  said  to  the  woman  chauffeur, 

14 


"Drive  me  to  Dorchester  House."  The  chauf- 
feur said,  "All  right.  Get  in."  Lord  Har- 
graves  said:  "I'm  accustomed  to  being  ad- 
dressed as  'My  Lord.' "  "All  right,"  replied 
the  driver,  "you  get  in.  I  am  accustomed  to 
being  addressed  as  'My  Lady.'  "  She  was  his 
social  equal. 

The  Red  Cross  will  get  its  one  hundred  mil- 
lions, Los  Angeles  will  raise  its  apportionment 
of  three-quarters  of  a  million.  No  one  with 
a  heart  will  turn  away  this  appeal  of  the 
noblest  work  in  the  world. 

A  letter  came  to  me  from  Mr.  George  S. 
Fowler,  the  Executive  Secretary  of  the  Red 
Cross,  with  these  words:  "It  would  require 
volumes  to  tell  you  all  that  the  Red  Cross  has 
accomplished, — the  lives  saved,  the  suffering- 
assuaged,  the  starving  fed,  the  homeless  shel- 
tered, the  heart-broken  comforted." 

Let  me  impress  it  upon  you  today  that  the 
suffering  peoples  of  Europe  are  looking  to 
America  for  relief.  They  have  a  right  to  turn 
their  pain-stricken  faces  towards  us.  They 
have  a  vast  claim  on  America, — the  claim  of 
having  fought  America's  battles  with  the  Hun. 
and  having  protected  America  from  the  rav- 
ages of  the  Hun  for  nearly  three  years. 

One  of  the  pamphlets  sent  out  calls  the  Red 
Cross  "The  Army  behind  the  Army,"  and  as- 
sures us  that  so  great  is  the  work  and  the  de- 
mands made  upon  them  that  "Our  giving  must 
shake  us  to  the  very  foundations."  "We  must 
give  more  than  we  are  able."  "You  have 
bought  Liberty  Bonds,"  says  the  pamphlet, 
"and  War  Saving  Stamps,  and  have  already 
contributed  all  you  can  spare  to  the  Red 
Cross,  but  you  must  give,  give,  give, — give 
more  and  more,  because  if  you're  not  suffer- 

15 


ing,  you're  not  giving."  "Don't  think  of  your 
giving  as  a  sacrifice.  Think  of  it  as  a  privi- 
lege." "When  you  give  you  are  fighting  as 
surely  as  if  you  had  a  gun  in  your  hand.  This 
is  not  benevolence,  it  is  War.  Your  act  is 
Valor." 

The  Red  Cross  is  helping  millions.  "It  is 
gathering  in  the  poor  little  children,  wasted 
waifs  of  the  war-swept  area."  "It  is  main- 
taining the  Red  Cross  Canteen,  that  Hail  Fel- 
low of  a  saddened  world." 

Do  thy  share !  Do  thy  share !  Give  as  thou 
art  able  to  give.  You  will  be  helping  in  lift- 
ing up  the  Fallen  Gates  of  our  Civilization. 
You  will  be  helping  to  bring  the  war  to  a  tri- 
umphant close. 

"Over   the   din   of   battle,   over   the   cannon's 

rattle, 
Over   the   strident   voices  of  men   and   their 

dying  groans, 
I  hear  the  falling  of  Thrones." 

"Out  of  the  wild  disorder  that  spreads  from 
border  to  border, 

1  see  a  new  world  rising  from  ashes  of  an- 
cient towns; 

And  the  Rulers  wear  no  crowns." 


Free  Tract  Society  Print, 
74*   Crocker  St.,   L©s   Angeles,   Cal.,   U.    S.   A. 


Immigrants 

and  ) 

Emigrants 


WILLIAM  H.  FISHBURN 


RN 


1 


RN 




Immigrants 

and  Emigrants 


Rev.  William  H.  Fishburn,  D.  D. 


A  Sermon  Delivered  in  West 

Adams  Presbyterian  Church, 

Los  Angeles,  California 

November  30,  1913 


I 


RN 


Published  by  order  of  the  Church  Extension 

Board  of  the  Presbytery  of  Los  Angeles, 

April,  1914 


Immigrants 

and  Emigrants 

Jer.  22:10.  "Weep  s£*rc'  fdi:  liim  *hat 
goeth  away;  for  he  sh&li  return v;no 
more,  nor  see  his  native  country." 

"Weep  sore  for  him  that  goeth 
away,"  There  they  go!  There  they 
go!  Oh,  the  long  procession  of  old 
friends  marching  outward  from  the 
Homeland;  and  they  will  never  come 
back. 

Thus  Jeremiah  speaks  of  those  who 
emigrated  from  Jerusalem  to  far  away 
lands  two  thousand  four  hundred 
years  ago,  and  never  came  back.    ' 

I  shall  not  even  try  to  disguise  the 
discourse  of  this  morning  as  a  sermon. 
It  is  not  to  be  a  sermon  on  a  text;  it 
is  to  be  a  Home  Missionary  Address 
on  Immigration  and  Emigration. 

There  is  a  difference  between  mi- 
grating and  emigrating  and  immigra- 
ting. He  who  migrates  merely  moves 
from  one  house  into  another;  he  who 
emigrates  leaves  his  native  land  for 
another ;  he  who  immigrates  comes 
into  a  new  land.  The  alien  who  leaves 
Furope  or  Asia  for  America  is  an  Emi- 
grant when  he  starts  on  his  long  voy- 


' — 


5 


RN 


age;  he  is  an  Immigrant  when  his  feet 
touch  our  shores. 

We  people  of  America  count  the  Im- 
migrants; bu:  the  peoples  of  Europe 
and  Asia  count  the  Emigrants,  and 
count  them  with  sobs  of  sorrow.  They 
"weep  sore  for  him  that  goeth  away, 
because  he  >h?il  return  no  more,  nor 
si  r  his  native  country/' 

To  us  an  Immigrant  is  only  an  Im- 
migrant ;  he  is  a  living,  muscular  ma- 
chine, a  machine  weighing  some  one 
hundred  and  fifty  pounds,  a  machine  .to 
delve  in  the  mines,  to  dig  in  the  streets, 
to  labor  in  the  shops  and  the  mills, — 
he  is  one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  of 
muscle. 

But  to  those  peoples  on  the  other 
side  of  the  seas  he  is  a  human  soul,  he 
is  a  man,  he  is  a  being  strung  with 
sensitive  nerves;  he  has  a  brain  that 
thinks  and  a  heart  that  feels. 

I  saw  a  great  ocean  liner  laden  with 
Immigrants  arriving  in  New  York 
City.  There  were  hundreds  and  hun- 
dreds of  them  on  that  one  ship,  and,  as 
the  vessel  came  into  port,  I  could  hear 
the  cheering  of  the  Immigrants  above 
the  strident  noises  of  the  harbor.  Many 
of  them  were  waving  their  hands  for 
joy.  Many  were  laughing.  Some  were 
singing.  Some  were  dancing  to  the 
music  of  an  orchestra.  Their  faces 
were  Foreign  faces,  but  they  were 
good,    whoiesome    faces.      And    while 


■ 


some  were  skipping  for  merriment, 
others  were  weeping;  others  sat  alone, 
bowed,  silent.  All  of  them  were 
strangers  coming  to  a  strange  land. 
What  were  they  going  to  find  in  this 
new  country  whose  language  they  did 
not  know,  and  whose  manners  were, 
to  them,  a  mystery? 

I  looked  at  that  huge  throng,  I 
looked  until  my  eyes  got  misty, — but 
those  people  did  not  seem  to  me  like 
Immigrants.  They  seemed  to  me  like 
men  and  women  and  children, — brave, 
courageous  souls  who  had  fared  forth 
from  far-away  homes  on  the  Great  Ad- 
venture. 

And  then  my  vision  was  augmented 
so  that  I  could  see  across  the  Atlantic 
and  hundreds  of  miles  beyond,  and  I 
saw  aged  fathers  and  mothers  who  had 
been  left  behind,  and  who  were  "weep- 
ing sore  for  those  who  had  gone  away, 
who  should  return  no  more,  nor  see 
again  their  native  country. " 

The  biggest  problem  that  confronts 
America  at  this  moment  is  not  the  tar- 
iff, nor  the  currency  bill,  nor  the  repeal 
of  Panama  Canal  tolls  exemption,  nor 
the  pillow-fight  that  is  going  on  in  Old 
Mexico.  There  is  a  question  that  over- 
shadows these  questions,  and  it  is  this: 
"What  are  we  going  to  do  with  the 
Immigrant,  and  what  is  the  Immi- 
grant going  to  do  with  us?" 

We   of   Los   Angeles   are  optimists. 


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None  but  optimists  live  in  Los  An- 
geles. The  bluest  pessimist  who  can 
get  into  a  passenger  train  back  East 
turns  into  an  optimist  when  he  inhales 
the  scent  of  our  California  Mowers, 
and  refreshes  his  palate  with  our  Cali- 
fornia fruits,  and  fills  his  lungs  with 
the  ozone  in  the  California  atmosphere 
that  tingles  in  the  blood  like  a  draught 
of  nectar.  The  very  wind  that  blows 
in   California   is    Medicine   Wind. 

And,  being  optimists,  we  see  the 
bright  side  of  everything.  We  tell 
everybody  about  our  Good  Roads, 
about  our  Good  Owens  River  Water 
that  will  soon  be  carried  to  our  lips 
in  crystal  goblets ;  about  our  new 
Southern  Pacific  Station  that  is,  pre- 
sumably, going  to  be  more  gorgeous 
than  anything  Solomon  ever  saw  in  all 
his  glory. 

We  are  dreamers,  and  we  dream 
good  dreams  for  which  God  be  praised ! 
What  dreams  we  have  just  now  con- 
cerning 1915  and  the  opening  of  the 
Panama  Canal  and  the  World's  Fair 
that  is  going  to  bring  hundreds  of 
thousands  of  visitors  to  walk  our 
streets  and  to  be  stricken  with  incur- 
able Los-Angelitis,  so  that  they  shall 
settle  down  here  for  the  remainder  of 
their  lives. 

AVe  are  waiting  for  the  Panama  Ca- 
nal to  open  with  salvos  of  artillery, 
and  sweet  strains  of  martial  music,  and 


the  blowing  of  loud  trumpets,  and  the 
acclaim  of  many  voices.  There  will  be 
parades  of  feathers  and  uniforms  and 
gold  braid.  There  will  be  processions 
of  battleships  and  of  merchant  ships. 
All  of  that  will  be.  It  must  be,  be- 
cause our  local  prophets  have  set  it 
down  that  Los  Angeles  shall  have  a 
population  of  one  million  in  1920. 

But,  sirs,  we  have  not  given  much 
attention  to  the  procession  of  another 
kind  that  is  going  to  follow  in  the 
wake  of  this  splendid  Canal-Opening 
procession.  Behind  the  battleships  and 
the  merchant  ships  there  will  come  the 
procession  of  the  Immigrant  ships, — a 
procession  that  is  going  to  be  of  incal- 
culable length,  and  that  is  going  to 
unload  its  burden  of  Immigrants  in  the 
Harbor  of  Los  Angeles. 

We  shall  have  our  million  in  1920, — 
I  have  not  the  least  doubt  about  that, 
— but  not  all  of  them  will  be  persons 
whom  we  should  invite  to  dine  and  sup 
with  us. 

Los  Angeles  is  not  a  timid  city;  it  is 
not  a  city  that  modestly  hides  its  light 
under  a  bushel.  Southern  California  is 
a  country  that  cannot  be  hid.  Our 
fame  is  gone  out  into  all  the  earth, 
and  our  praise  to  the  ends  of  the 
world.  The  peoples  of  Montenegro 
and  Servia  and  Bulgaria,  of  Italy  and 
Austria  and  Hungary,  of  Finland  and 
Poland    and    Russia,    of    Turkey    and 


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Syria  and  East  India  have  heard  of  our 
"Land  of  Heart's  Desire,"  and,  whether 
we  welcome  them  warmly  or  not,  they 
are  going  to  come, — and  we  are  going 
to  look  in  the  black  faces  and  the  brown 
faces  and  the  wind-reddened  faces  of 
Asia  and  Europe,  right  here  in  the 
streets  of  our  beautiful  city ! 

Do  you  know  what  it  means,  sirs? 
Have  you  looked  into  the  future  and 
tried  to  spell  out  what  it  means?  Have 
you  looked  into  the  question  at  all  ? 
The  women  of  the  Missionary  So- 
ciety have  been  studying  at  least  the 
edges  of  this  problem,  and  they  are 
able  to  surmise  in  a  measure  what  it 
means.  They  can  tell  you  of  some  of 
the  good  things  and  of  some  of  the 
direful  things  that,  in  God's  wise  pur- 
poses, are  in  store  for  Los  Angeles 
and  for  Southern  California. 

Since  the  beginning  of  American  his- 
tory there  has  been  but  one  great  por- 
tal through  which  the  Immigrant  has 
entered  our  country — that  great  portal 
has  been  New  York  City.  If  you  are 
a  careful  reader  you  know  something 
about  what  the  Immigrant  has  done 
for  New  York  City  and  what  New 
York  City  has  done  for  the  Immigrant. 

Today  there  are  more  native  Irish 
living  in  New  York  City  than  are  liv- 
ing in  any  city  in  Ireland ;  there  are 
more  native  Germans  living  in  New 
York  City  than  are  living  in  any  city 


in  Germany,  except  Berlin;  there  are 
more  native  Italians  living  in  New 
York  City  than  in  any  city  in  Italy  ex- 
cept Naples.  Sixty-five  foreign  lan- 
guages are  spoken  in  that  city's 
streets ;  five  thousand  newsboys  sell 
newspapers,  crying  them  in  foreign 
tongues.  In  New  York  City,  with  its 
suburban  cities,  there  are  seven  mil- 
lions of  people. 

And  now  a  New  Gateway  into  Amer- 
ica will  be  opened  with  the  opening  of 
the  Panama  Canal,  and  the  stream  of 
Immigration  may  be  diverted  from 
New  York  City.  Immigrants  may 
come  pouring  by  thousands  and  ten 
thousands  and  hundreds  of  thousands 
into  Southern   California. 

Are  we  ready  for  them  ?  Are  our 
Churches  ready  for  them  ?  Is  the  Gos- 
pel of  Jesus  Christ  in  our  hearts  and 
on  our  lips  to  salute  them?  Are  we 
even  giving  them  a  thought? 

We  are  told  that  there  are  a  million 
persons  in  New  York  City  who  have 
turned  their  backs  upon  the  churches 
and  upon  the  Lord  Christ  because  the 
Churches  have  run  away,  have  moved 
into  exclusive  and  fashionable  centers 
in  order  to  escape  from  the  polluting 
touch  of  the  Immigrant. 

I  wish  you  could  keep  it  in  mind 
that  we  shall  not  only  have  one  mil- 
lion of  population  in  Los  Angeles,  and 
then  stop.     We  shall  some  day  have 


L 


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two  millions,  and  live  millions, — and 
who  shall  say  how  many  millions 
more, — and  millions  of  these  coming 
citizens  of  Los  Angeles  and  this  South- 
land are  going  to  be  Immigrants. 

Is  not  the  problem  of  the  Immigrant 
a  problem  worth  studying?  Is  not  it  a 
problem  that  appeals  to  every  one  who 
loves  Him  who  hath  made  of  one  blood 
all  races  of  men? 

How  full  of  thanks  is  the  Immigrant 
upon  arriving  on  our  shores!  He  re- 
joices. He  is  in  America!  The  world 
is  open  to  him.  He  is  full  of  great 
hopes.  He  dreams  big  dreams.  He  is 
in  America!  Are  we  glad  to  have 
him? 

Whether  we  are  glad  or  not,  he  is 
coming.  Dr.  Frank  Julian  Warne  in 
his  book.  "The  Immigrant  Invasion," 
tells  us  of  the  enormous  inflow  during 
the  past  ten  years.  He  does  not  put  it 
into  dry  figures ;  he  makes  a  picture 
of  it  that  we  can  see.  He  states  that 
during  the  past  ten  years,  "for  every 
time  the  clock  struck  the  hour,  day 
and  night,  one  hundred  persons  born 
in  some  foreign  country,  not  including 
Canada  and  Mexico,  landed  on  the 
shores  of  the  United  States." 

I  have  been  recently  doing  some  fig- 
uring at  a  hazard.  During  the  eleven 
months  of  the  year,  1913,  there  have 
come  to  the  United  States  upwards  of 
one  million  Immigrants.    The  total  for 


1913  will  be  nearly  one  million  and  two 
hundred  thousand.  How  many  will 
arrive  between  1915,  when  the  Panama 
Canal  opens,  and  1920, — a  period  of 
five  years? 

During  the  five  years,  from  1907  to 
1912,  there  arrived  in  the  United  States 
4.292,895.  Only  suppose  that  this  New 
Gateway  lures  one-fourth  of  the  Immi- 
grants, there  will  arrive  on  the  Pacific 
Coast  between  1915  and  1920,  1,073,246 
persons.  Even  if  you  divide  that  total 
in  half,  the  number  that  will  arrive 
here  is  appalling.  Are  we  ready  for 
them?  Are  our  Churches  ready  for 
them?  We  are  going  to  get  new  citi- 
zens, but  God  is  not  going  to  let  us 
pick  them.  He  is  going  to  pour  them 
unon  us  as  a  mixed  mass. 

1 '  They  come,  they  come,  one  treads  the  other 's 
heel, 
And  some  we  laugh,  and  some  we  weep  to 
see, 
And  some  we  fear;  but  in  the  throng  we  feel 
The  mighty  throb  of  our  own  destiny. 

1 '  Outstretched   their  hands   to  take   whate  'er 
we  give, 
Honor,  dishonor,  daily  bread,  or  bane; 
Not  their 's  to  choose  how  we  may  bid  them 
live — 
But  what  we  give  we  shall  receive  again. 

" America!     Charge  not  thy  fate  to  these; 

The  power  is  ours  to  mould  them  or  to  mar. 
But  Freedom's  voice,  far  down  the  centuries, 

Shall  sound  our  choice  from  blazing  star  to 
star." 


I 


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Have  you  ever  thought  what  would 
become  of  this  country  without  the 
Immigrant?  Have  you  considered 
how  God  is  enriching  America  by  giv- 
ing us  this  procession  of  the  Immi- 
grants? Mr.  Shriver  in  his  ''Immigrant 
Forces,"  suggests  that,  "if  the  13,516,- 
000  persons,  our  total  foreign-born 
white  population,  having  packed  their 
bags  and  bundles,  should  silently  sail 
away  some  night  back  to  Europe  and 
beyond,"  we  should  discover  imme- 
diately how  dependent  we  are  upon  the 
Immigrants,  and  how  bereft  we  should 
be   without   them. 

Mr.  Shriver  forgets  that  these  de- 
parting millions  might  take  along  with 
them  their  children  born  in  the  United 
States,  which  would  add  18,900,000 
more,  a  total  of  32,000,000  persons ! 
We  should  know  then,  suddenly,  what 
we  owe  to  the  Immigrant.  The  United 
States,  without  them,  would  be  like  a 
land  that  has  been  swept  by  a  catas- 
trophe the  like  of  which  has  never  vis- 
ited  any  nation. 

We  of  the  United  States  are  en- 
riched by  the  coming  of  the  Immigrant, 
but  Europe  and  Asia  are  becoming  im- 
poverished by  his  departure.  Put 
yourself,  for  one  moment,  in  the  place 
of  the  old  folk  who  are  left  behind  in 
the  far  countries.  Think  of  standing 
on  the  shores  of  America  and  seeing 
tens   of  thousands,  hundreds   of  thou- 


sands  of  Americans  going  away  to 
some  foreign  land  never  to  come  back. 
Think  of  America  stripped  of  one  mil- 
lion people  a  year,  instead  of  receiving 
one  million  people  a  year! 

We  owe  much  to  the  Immigrant. 
Do  you  know  that  one-fourth  of  the 
Grand  Army  men  who  bartled  in  1861 
were  foreign-born  men?  Do  you  know 
that  three-fourths  of  your  hardest  la- 
bor, aside  from  that  done  on  the  farms, 
is  done  by  the  Immigrant;  and  that 
much  of  the  best  farm  work  is  done  by 
the   Immigrant? 

This  country  needs  him.  But  it  can- 
not assort  him.  It  must  take  him  as 
he  comes,  and  use  him  as  it  finds  him. 
We  seem  to  have  a  preference  for  Im- 
migrants from  certain  lands  like  Eng- 
land, Ireland,  Scotland,  Germany,  Swe- 
den, Norway,  Denmark,  Holland.  We 
look  upon  them  as  people  of  our  own 
blood  and  kin.  We  would  reject,  if 
we  could,  the  coming  of  some  of  the 
foreign  races.  But  we  can't.  And  it 
is  well  that  we  can't.  Out  of  the  skele- 
ton of  the  lion  we  get  honey. 

Mr.  Robert  Watchorn,  a  careful  stu- 
dent of  the  Immigration  problem,  savs 
this:  "If  you  give  the  Italian,  the 
Hungarian,  and  the  Russian  Jew  half 
a  chance,  he  will  make  the  English,  the 
Trish,  and  the  German  look  like  thirty 
cents. " 

Do  you  know  how  the  steel  in   the 


r 


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finest  sword-blades  is  compounded? 
When  the  cutler  will  form  the  finest 
steel  he  gathers  samples  of  iron  from 
Sweden,  from  Syria,  from  Russia,  from 
England,  from  the  United  States  and 
fuses  them  together  and  forges  them 
into  a  weapon  that  will  carry  an  edge, 
and  that  will  flash  in  the  soldier's  hand 
like  a  bar  of  quicksilver.  And  so  our 
Heavenly  Father  is  forging  here  in 
America  the  coming  man,  and  He  gath- 
ers the  metal  from  every  land,  and  out 
of  His  refining  fires  He  will  produce 
here,  at  last,  the  man  of  His  desire. 

I  never  think  that  it  is  much  of  a 
question  whether  a  man  was  born  in 
America;  the  big  question  is:  Is  Am- 
erica born  in  him? 

The  Immigrant  is  a  burden  of 
course,  but  all  burdens  are  blessings 
just  as  all  blessings  are  burdens.  Can- 
not we  say  from  our  hearts:  Be  he 
burden  or  be  he  blessing,  thanks  be  to 
God  for  the  Immigrant ! 

The  majority  of  the  Immigrants  who 
come  to  us  are  only  ordinary  men. 
Most  of  them  are  not  skilled.  Few  of 
them  are  endowed  with  genius.  But 
we  need  ordinary  men..  Maybe  we 
have  too  many  who  think  themselves 
extraordinary  and  not  enough  who  are 
ready  to  be  ordinary  and  to  do  the 
ordinary  things.  Here  is  a  fine  word 
from  President  Wilson  :  "When  I  look 
back  on  the  processes  of  history,  when 


I  survey  the  genesis  of  America,  I  see 
this  written  over  every  page:  that  the 
nations  are  renewed  from  the  bottom, 
not  from  the  top ;  that  the  genius  which 
springs  up  from  the  ranks  of  unknown 
men  is  the  genius  which  renews  the 
youth  and  energy  of  the  people. 
Everything  I  know  about  history, 
every  bit  of  experience  and  observa- 
tion that  has  contributed  to  my 
thought,  has  confirmed  me  in  the  con- 
viction that  the  real  wisdom  of  human 
life  is  compounded  out  of  the  experi- 
ences of  ordinary  men." 

These  Immigrants  who  come  to  us 
are  largely  ordinary  men,  but  they  are 
human  men,  men  who  can  feel,  men 
who  can  understand.  They  are  mostly 
respectable  men.  They  had  a  hunger 
for  better  things,  and  that  hunger  has 
drawn  them  across  the  seas.  Mr.  Rob- 
ert Haven  Schauffler  had  a  poem  some 
time  ago  in  the  Assembly  Herald  tell- 
ing us  of  the  wrong  we  do  to  the  Immi- 
grant when  we  call  him  "The  Scum  of 
the  Earth."  The  Immigrant  is  not  the 
scum  of  the  earth.  Europe  is  not  pour- 
ing its  sewage  into  the  United  States, 
as  the  inflammatory  speakers  of  ten 
years  ago  were  used  to  affirm.  The 
men  who  come  to  us  are  toilers.  They 
are  ready  to  work,  and  to  work  hard. 

They  are  not  well-clad  when  they 
come ;  they  would  not  feel  at  home  in 
your   drawing-room.      They   have   not 


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intellectual  faces.     They  do  not  come 
as  toys;  they  come  as  toilers. 

We  ought  to  remember,  sirs,  that 
our  ancestors  were  Immigrants,  even 
if  they  came  over  on  the  "Mayflower." 
One  of  our  humorists  made  the  esti- 
mate that  the  "Mayflower"  was  a  ship 
twenty-seven  miles  long,  seven  miles 
wide,  and  three  miles  high,  judging 
from  the  number  of  living  descendants 
of  those  who  came  over  in  her  when 
she  made  her  famous  crossing. 

Your  ancestors  and  mine  did  not  ar- 
rive in  silk  hats  and  claw-hammer  coats 
and  patent  leather  pumps.  They  were 
plain,  strong,  fearless,  honest  men, 
who  prayed  to  God,  and  read  their 
Bibles  hard,  and  went  to  church,  and 
worked  with  their  two  hands  for 
bread. 

If  the  Immigrants  that  are  coming 
to  us  are  ignorant  and  rude,  they  are 
human.  They  are  our  brothers  in 
Christ's  dear  Name,  and  we  ought  not 
to  wound  and  pain  them  with  ill  and 
coarse  titles.  There  are  names  that 
hurt, — names  like  "Dago,"  "Sheeny," 
"Nigger,"  "Greaser," — names  that  soil 
the  lips  that  speak  them  more  than 
they  soil  the  persons  against  whom 
they  are  directed. 

Doctor  E.  R.  Dille  of  San  Francisco 
gave  me  a  poem  by  Bishop  Mclntyre 
concerning  this  cruel  nick-naming: 


"Dago,  and  Sheeney,  and  Chink, 

Greaser  and  Nigger  and  Jap, 
The  Devil  invented  these  terms,  I  think, 

To  hurl  at  each  hopeful  chap 
Who  comes  so  far,  over  the  foam, 

To  this  land  of  his  heart's  desire, 
To  rear  his  brood,  to  build  his  home, 

And  to  kindle  his  hearthstone  fire. 
While  the  eyes  with  joy  are  blurred, 

Lo!   we  make  the  strong  man  sink, 
And  stab  the  soul  with  the  hateful  word, 

Dago,  and  Sheeney,  and  Chink. 

' '  Dago,  and  Sheeney,  and  Chink, 

These  are  the  vipers  that  swarm 
Up  from  the   edge  of  Perdition's  brink 

To  hurt  and  dishearten  and  harm. 
O  shame!  when  their  Roman  forbears  walked 

Where  the  first  of  the  Caesars  trod 
O  shame!  when  their  Hebrew  fathers  talked 

With  Moses,  and  he  with  God. 
These  swarthy  sons  of  Japhet  and  Shem 

Gave  the  goblet  of  Life's  sweet  drink 
To  the  thirsty  world,  which  now  gives  them 

Dago,  and  Sheeney,  and  Chink. 

"Dago,  and  Sheeney,  and  Chink, 

Greaser,  and  Nigger  and  Jap, 
From  none  of  them  doth  Jehovah  shrink, 

He  lifteth  them  all  to  His  lap. 
And  the  Christ,  in  His  kingly  grace, 

When  their  sad,  low  sob  He  hears 
Puts  His  tender  embrace  around  our  race 

As  He  kisses  away  its  tears." 

Are  you  interested  in  the  Immi- 
grant? Are  you  reading  any  of  the  re- 
cent books  about  the  Immigrant,  and 
about  American  popular  government, 
and  the  controlling  of  the  multitudes? 
They  are  illuminating  books,  and  those 


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who  read  none  of  them  are  voluntarily 
leaving  themselves  in  ignorance.  1  am 
glad  our  Women's  Missionary  Socie- 
ties are  studying  Miss  Laura  G. 
Gould's  "America  God's  Melting  Pot." 
It  is  a  good  book  and  gives  much 
wholesome  information, — and  the  read- 
ing of  it  may  sharpen  their  appetites 
to  study  some  other  books,  not  quite 
so  interesting,  but  very  much  more  ac- 
curate and  informing,  like  President 
Lowell's  "Public  Opinion  and  Popu- 
lar Government, "  a  book  that  tells 
about  the  vital  obstacles  to  popular 
government;  or  like  Mr.  Joseph  B. 
Bishop's  "The  Panama  Gateway,"  a 
real  book  by  a  real  man  who  sees 
when  he  looks.  Everybody  who  wants 
to  know,  ought  to  read  Mr.  Frederic 
J.  Haskins'  "The  Immigrant,"  a  great 
eye-opener;  and  Mr.  Peter  Robinson's 
"The  New  Immigration,"  a  greater 
eye-opener;  and  Mr.  Frank  J.  Warne's 
"The  Immigrant  Invasion,"  one  of  the 
greatest  books  on  the  subject  that  has 
appeared. 

The  women  are  studying  the  Immi- 
gration question ;  are  you  studying  it 
— you — a  man?  Our  Women's  Mis- 
sionary Societies  meet  once  each  month 
to  study  the  great  problems  of  world- 
civilization  ;  are  you  studying  them — 
you — a  man?  Is  the  woman  finding 
out  something  about  the  world-riddles 
that   the  average  man  knows   nothing 


of?  Would  not  it  be  well  for  the  men 
to  follow  the  women  in  their  study  of 
Missions? 

O,  how  much  the  Church  of  Jesus 
owes  to  these  devoted  women !  If  you 
could  suddenly  take  all  of  the  Women's 
Missionary  Societies  out  of  the  work, 
and  cause  all  women  to  cease  their 
Missionary  efforts,  I  tell  you  Mission- 
ary enthusiasm  would  fall  down  as  if 
it  had  been  struck  on  the  head  with  a 
mallet.  The  men  in  our  Churches 
would  move  very  slowly  in  Missions  if 
the  women  did  not  keep  them  stirred 
up.  Woman  may  make  a  nuisance  of 
herself,  sometimes,  in  some  directions, 
but  were  it  not  for  the  women,  half  the 
men  would  not  be  half  alive  half  the 
time. 

There  are  women  living  now  who 
give  us  the  impression  that  Eve  was 
not  made  from  Adam's  rib,  but  from 
Adam's  back-bone.  Many  men  seem  to 
be  minus  a  back-bone,  but  there  is  no 
obvious  lack  of  it  amongst  the  women. 

I  wish  every  woman  in  our  Churches 
was  a  regular  member  of  the  Women's 
Missionary  Society.  If  they  could  not 
always  be  present  they  could  occasion- 
ally be  present.  Do  not  make  an  ex- 
cuse when  they  invite  you  to  become  a 
member.  We  are  told  that  the  wife  of 
a  colored  minister  requested  one  of 
the  ladies  to  join  the  Mission  Band, 
but  the  lady  excused  herself  by  saying 


r 


— — ■ — 


she  wouldn't  join  any  kind  of  a  ''Band,'' 
because  she  had  no  ear  for  music  and 
couldn't  even  play  a  mouth-organ. 

It  is  not  the  mouth-organ  that  our 
noble  Missionary  women  play  on,  as 
any  one  who  will  attend  their  meetings 
will  speedily  discover,  and  as  any  one 
who  counts  the  moneys  they  contribute 
by  sheer  self-denial  will  acknowledge. 

We  cannot  think  of  Missions  with- 
out thinking  of  money.  If  there  is  a 
man  who  is  opposed  to  Foreign 
Missions,  who  believes  in  keeping  the 
money  at  Home  and  using  it  at  Home, 
— that  man  is  going  to  have  the  chance 
of  his  life  to  give  to  the  Home-work 
amongst  the  Immigrants,  right  here  in 
Los  Angeles,  in  the  next  ten  or  twenty 
years. 

Our  great,  rich  Presbyterian  Church 
in  the  whole  United  States  is  raising 
less  than  $400,000  per  year  for  work 
amongst  the  new  Immigrants.  We 
shall  need  that  sum  or  a  greater  sum 
for  the  work  on  this  Western  Coast 
alone.  Our  city  will  be  the  neck  of 
the  bottle  through  which  the  alien  will 
pass  into  this  splendid  Southland.  Los 
Angeles  will  be  one  of  the  best  places 
on  earth  from  which  to  evangelize  Eu- 
rope. Some  of  the  vexing  and  portent- 
ous problems  are  going  to  call  for  so- 
lution right  here  at  this  new  Immigra- 
tion Gateway.  If  you  shrink  from  giv- 
ing to  Foreign  Mission  work,  open  your 


hand  wide  and  give  generously  to 
Home  Mission  work. 

What  are  we  going  to  do  with  the 
multitudes  that  are  destined  to  gather 
on  this  Coast?  I  wish  I  could  write  the 
answer  on  the  sky:  "Be  Christlike; 
love  them;  win  them  to  faith  in  our 
Master!"  That  will  save  them  and 
make  good  Americans  of  them,  and 
nothing  else  will  do  it.  Love  to  Jesus 
is  the  golden  link  that  binds  us  to  every 
man  that  breathes. 

We  shall  have  to  come  into  physical 
contact  with  these  strange  peoples ;  we 
shall  have  to  look  in  their  faces;  we 
shall  have  to  love  them  into  the  king- 
dom of  heaven.  Mr.  Booker  Washing- 
ton in  his  "Man  Farthest  Down,"  says : 
"It  is  very  curious  what  a  difference 
there  is  in  the  impression  a  man  makes 
upon  you  if  you  stop  and  shake  hands 
with  him,  instead  of  merely  squinting 
at  him  critically  in  order  to  take  a  cold 
sociological  inventory  of  his  character 
and  condition." 

That  is  to  say,  the  man  looks  like  a 
man,  like  a  brother  man,  when  you 
touch  his  hand  with  your  hand, — when 
you  see  in  him  a  precious  soul  worth 
saving.  The  Commissioner  of  Immi- 
gration in  New  York  a  few  months  ago 
closed  his  Report  with  the  words :  "If 
the  Church  in  America  does  not  preach 
Christ  to  the  Immigrant,  the  Church  is 
passing  by  a  great  opportunity." 


RN 


God  is  going  to  send  these  multi- 
tudes to  us.  We  are  going  to  look  in 
their  pleading  faces.  Are  we  getting 
ready  to  tell  them  the  Old,  Old  Story, 
and  to  tell  it  gently  and  tenderly  and 
lovingly?  There  is  nothing  that  can 
reach  and  lift  up  and  hold  up  these 
coming  masses  bu:  the  Gospel  of  Jesus 
the  Christ. 

Your  new  manners  will  confuse 
them ;  your  strange  language  will  make 
them  a  prey  to  the  evil-minded ;  your 
money-changers  will  defraud  them ; 
your  demagogues  will  unsettle  them ; 
your  petty  speculators  will  strip  them 
to  the  bone. 

You,  and  you,  and  I  must  carry  this 
£-ood  Gospel  to  them ;  we  must  preach 
Christ  to  them,  not  only  with  our  lips, 
but  by  our  lives.  We  must  touch  them 
and  love  them  and  save  them  by  being 
unto  them  as  brother  unto  brother. 


# 


1 


RN 


OUR 

HOMELAND 


WILLIAM    H.  FISHBURN 


Our  Homeland 


By 
Rev.  William  H.  Fishburn,  D.  D. 


A  Sermon  Delivered  in 

West  Adams  Presbyterian  Church 

Los  Angeles,  California 

January,  1915 


Published  by  order  of  the 

Church  Extension  Board  of  the 

Presbytery  of  Los  Angeles 

January  *1 91 5 


Our  Homeland 

NUMBERS  13:27 

"We  came  unto  the  land  Vliitftetf  tli.ou; 
sentest  us,  and  surely  it  flowetji  with  milk 
and  honey/'  ; 


On  this  Missionary  Thanksgiving  Sunday 
it  is  something  to  give  thanks  to  God  for 
that  we  are  in  the  United  States  of  America. 

Under  the  Stars  and  Stripes  there  is  tran- 
quillity, there  is  repose,  while  under  many 
of  the  national  banners  of  Europe  the  earth 
shakes  beneath  the  foot  from  explosions  of 
guncotton  and  rhyolite  and  picric  acid,  and 
the  long  rolling  thunder  of  siege  guns. 

In  Europe,  for  the  moment,  the  catechism 
is  crushed  into  slime  under  cannon  wheels; 
Krupp  has  pushed  Christ  out  of  the  minds 
of  men;  bombshells  make  a  bigger  noise  than 
Bibles ;  and  the  procession  of  civilization  seems 
to  be  led  by  a  powder  cart. 

Our  public  prints  bring  us  from  day  to 
day  messages  of  "mire,  misery  and  murder." 
The  religion  of  Jesus  is  thrust  into  the  back- 
ground. An  English  newspaper  told  us  that 
in  one  large  Episcopalian  Church  in  London 
the  other  day  the  organist  played  as  a  volun- 
tary on  the  great  organ,  "It's  a  Long  Way  to 
Tipperary,"  while  the  people  applauded;  and 
the  populations  of  Paris,  London,  Petrograd, 
Vienna  hear  no  hallelujahs  of  praise  to  God, 
— they  hear  instead  the  tramp,  tramp,  tramp 
of  military  legions  and  the  martial  music  of 
trumpet   and   fife   and   drum. 

And  so  we  give  thanks  on  this  Missionary 
Sunday  that  we  are  in  the  United  States  of 
America  and  we  give  additional  thanks  that 
we    are    in    California,    where    we    receive    the 


daily  benedictions  of  the  sunshine,  are  saluted 
by  the  merry  songs  of  mocking-birds,  and 
are  refreshed  with  the  sweet  scent  of  flowers. 

"We  came  into  the  land  whither  thou  sent- 
est  us,  and  surely  it  floweth  with  milk  and 
JjqtSe^*  Doubtless  many  of  these  Children 
of  Israel  were  sorely  disappointed  when  they 
came  at  last  to  the  Promised  Land.  The 
rivers  of  Palestine  did  not  flow  white  with 
milk  and  yellow  with  cream  from  bank  to 
bank;  they  flowed  with  mud.  The  Israelites 
Saw  no  golden  honey  dripping  from  the  trees; 
they  saw  hostile  spearmen  and  bowmen  wait- 
ing behind  the  trees  to  contest  with  them 
every  inch  of  the  pathway  into  the  Land  of 
Promise. 

Palestine  was  a  Land  of  Potentialities,  of 
potential  rivers  of  milk  and  potential  hives 
full  of  honey.  After  many  years  of  sanguinary 
battling  and  strenuous  toil  the  Hebrews 
planted  rich  meadows  where  the  herds  might 
graze  and  turn  the  grass  into  rivers  of  milk; 
they  cultivated  trees  and  fruits  and  blossoms, 
and  out  of  these  the  bees  extracted  delicious 
honey.  They  found  a  land  of  potential  milk 
and  honey,  and,  by  the  sweat  of  their  faces, 
they  turned  it  into  a  land  flowing  with  ver- 
itable milk  and  honey. 

We  who  are  students  of  Missions  and  Mis- 
sion work  send  out  many  a  thought  and 
many  a  prayer  for  our  distressed  workers 
in  the  Foreign  fields.  We  care  for  Missions 
and  Mission  workers  everywhere.  But  today 
we  are  going  to  fix  our  thoughts  upon  Home 
Missions,  upon  Home  Missions  in  California, 
upon  Home  Missions  in  our  own  Presbytery. 
We  are  deeply  concerned  in  all  Foreign  af- 
fairs as  well  as  in  all  Home  affairs. 

When  we  speak  of  American  Missions,  our 


thoughts  go  up  to  that  northern  region  where 
Alaskans  are  shivering  under  the  Midnight 
Sun  with  the  Stars  and  Stripes  frozen  to  the 
flagstaff— and  down  to  the  burning  tropic 
lands  where  our  commerce  rushes  through 
the  Panama  Canal. 

Now,  you  must  not  feel  that  our  thinking 
is  little  thinking  or  contracted  thinking  when 
we  shut  ourselves  up  during  this  hour  to  a 
study  of  Mission  work  in  California.  Cali- 
fornia is  not  little  nor  contracted.     It  is  Big. 

If  you  could  break  some  of  the  Eastern 
States  loose  from  their  moorings  and  bring 
them  out  here,  you  might  bring  the  Empire 
State  of  New  York  and  lay  it  down  in  Cali- 
fornia; and  then  lay  the  Keystone  State  of 
Pennsylvania  alongside  it;  and  they  lay  Ohio 
down,  and  then  Massachusetts,  and  New  Jer- 
sey and  Connecticut  and  Rhode  Island,  all 
inside  our  borders,  and  you  would  then  have 
545  square  miles  of  our  Golden  State  remain- 
ing uncovered. 

You  might  lay  down  inside  of  the  lines  of 
California  the  British  Isles,  England  and 
Wales,  Scotland  and  Ireland;  and  then  go 
to  Germany  and  bring  hither  the  Rhine  Prov- 
ince of  Prussia  which  contains  Essen  and  the 
Krupp  works,  and  Dusseldorf,  where  Hein- 
rich  Heine  and  Peter  von  Cornelius  were 
born,  and  Cologne  with  its  Cathedral,  and 
Treves  with  its  cathedral,  and  Aix-la-Cha- 
pelle  with  its  cathedral;  and  then  bring  the 
Kingdom  of  Saxony,  and  the  Province  of 
Alsace-Lorraine,  and  the  Provinces  of  Bremen 
and  Saxe-Weimar,  and  Mecklenburg-Strelitz, 
and  Oldenburg,  and  Lubcck,  and  Waldeck, 
and  yet  leave  some  10,000  square  miles  of 
California  unoccupied. 

Some  of  the  European  Kingdoms  and  Prin- 


cipalities  are  so  small  that  it  is  said  they 
must  get  the  consent  of  the  neighboring  Prin- 
cipality before  trying  out  a  new  field  piece, 
lest  the  missile  discharged  in  this  Principality 
should  find  lodgment  in  the  Principality  next 
door. 

If  you  could  pick  up  the  State  of  California 
and  carry  it  to  the  East  and  lay  it  down  in  its 
full  length  north  and  south  across  the  Eastern 
States,  it  might  cool  its  forehead  in  the  icy 
waters  of  the  Canadian  Lakes,  then  stretch 
its  ample  body  southward  over  Ohio,  Penn- 
sylvania, West  Virginia,  Old  Virginia,  Ken- 
tucky, Tennessee  and  Florida,  and  dip  its  feet 
in  the  warm  waters  of  the  Gulf  of  Mexico, 
When  we  talk  about  California,  we  are  talk- 
ing about  that  which  is  Big. 

When  Cabrillo  explored  this  coast  in  A.  D. 
1542,  and  when  Sir  Francis  Drake  explored 
it  in  A.  D.  1578,  they  saw  not  what  California 
was  destined  to  become.  All  they  saw  was  a 
great  desert  over  which  roamed  wandering 
tribes  of  Indians.  They  saw  no  rivers  of  poten- 
tial milk  nor  hives  full  of  potential  honey.  But 
we  who  live  in  California  now  can  lift  thank- 
ful faces  to  God  and  say:  "We  came  into  the 
land  whither  thou  sentest  us,  and  surely  it 
floweth  with  milk  and  honey." 

One  single  county  in  California  last  year 
produced  10,855,560  pounds  of  milk,  butter 
and  cheese.  That  was  Humboldt  County. 
Humboldt  County  floweth  with  milk. 

The  San  Joaquin  Valley  produced  in  one 
year  11,532,000  pounds  of  honey.  That  val- 
ley drips  with  honey. 

Last  year  we  gathered  in  this  State  116,913 
carloads,  ten  tons  to  the  carload,  of  fruits 
fresh,  fruits  dried,  fruits  canned.  We  shipped 
18,085  carloads  of  oranges  and  lemons. :     We 


sent  out  65,(XK)  tons  of  raisins;  20,000  tons 
of  dried  peaches;  and  we  added  45,000  tons 
of  the  humble  prune  to  give  zest  to  the  East- 
ern breakfast  table,  and  169,258  tons  of  sugar 
to  sweeten  the  coffee. 

Of  the  242  millions  of  barrels  of  petroleum 
produced  in  the  United  States  last  year,  98 
millions  of  barrels  gushed  out  of  our  Califor- 
nia oil  wells.  We  have  3,150,000  acres  of 
irrigated  land  in  our  State,  with  sufficient 
water  within  reach  to  irrigate  six  millions  of 
acres  more.  We  have  turned  water-power 
into  electric-power,  and  out  of  a  possible  nine 
million  horse  power  we  are  now  using  nearly 
one  million  horse  power.  We  cut  in  a  single 
year  1,270,000,000  feet  of  lumber;  and  last 
year  we  dug  out  of  our  mines  sufficient  gold 
to  coin  one  million  $20  gold  pieces;  1,500,000 
gallons  of  olive  oil  flowed  from  our  trees  dur- 
ing the  past  year;  and  13,700  tons  of  almonds 
and  walnuts  were  gathered  from  our  or- 
chards. 

Now,  when  we  turn  our  eyes  away  from  the 
greater  vision  of  the  whole  State  of  California 
and  fix  them  on  the  smaller  vision  of  Los  An- 
geles Presbytery,  our  own  Presbytery,  we 
shall  discover  that  we  have  not  fixed  them 
upon  a  little  vision  but  upon  a  big  vision. 
The  Los  Angeles  Presbytery  is  Big;  it  is 
17,172  square  miles  big.  It  covers  Los  An- 
geles County,  and  Orange,  Imperial  and  San 
Diego  Counties. 

This  Los  Angeles  Presbytery  is  bigger  than 
all  Switzerland;  it  is  bigger  than  all  Den- 
mark; it  is  bigger  than  all  Holland.  It  is 
nearly  four  times  as  big  as  the  European 
Kingdom  of  Montenegro,  which,  not  very 
many  months  ago,  shook  its  little  brown  fist 
in  the  faces  of  all  the  Powers  of  Europe. 


If  you  could  re-shape  our  Presbytery  so  as 
to  make  it  a  perfect  square,  it  would  be  a 
square  of  131  miles  to  a  side.  And  if  you 
could  turn  European  Turkey  into  a  square 
Turkish  rug  and  lay  it  down  on  Los  Angeles 
Presbytery  there  would  be  an  uncovered  bor- 
der all  around  the  rug  thirteen  miles  wide. 

Or  if  you  could  transform  the  whole  King- 
dom of  Belgium  into  a  square  Brussels  car- 
pet and  lay  it  down  on  the  land  occupied  by 
this  Presbytery,  it  would  require  5,500  square 
miles  of  additional  carpet  to  complete  the 
covering. 

In  this  Presbytery  of  ours  you  could  lay 
down  the  whole  State  of  Maryland,  and  along- 
side Maryland  you  could  lay  the  whole  State 
of  Delaware,  and  there  would  be  room  left 
in  the  Presbytery  to  locate  the  whole  State 
of  Rhode  Island  for  a  tennis  court,  and  room 
in  the  opposite  corner  to  install  one  of  the 
larger  of  the  Alaskan  islands  for  an  ice-house. 

That  is  the  part  of  the  story  of  this  Presby- 
tery that  shines — its  Bigness.  But  when  we 
look  at  the  work  Presbyterians  are  actually 
doing  here,  it  does  not  shine  with  any  marked 
degree  of  lustre. 

There  are  19,000  Presbyterian  members  in 
this  Presbytery.  Possibly  there  is  an  addi- 
tional 19,000  unaffiliated  Presbyterians,  crimi- 
nal Presbyterians,  who  refuse  to  assume  their 
responsibilities  as  church  members  and  bear 
their  rightful  share  of  church  burdens.  They 
are  verily  guilty  before  God. 

It  is  well  for  us  to  praise  that  which  is 
praiseworthy,  but  it  is  well  also  to  call  atten- 
tion to  that  which  is  blameworthy. 

Our  home  city  grows,  and  we  praise  it. 
Los  Angeles  insists  on  growing  in  six  direc- 
tions, north,  south,  east,  west,  up  and  down, 

8 


at  the  same  time.  There  is  no  more  enthusi-r 
astic  city  on  this  continent.  We  are  full  of 
ardor  so  far  as  city  building  goes,  so  far  as 
real  estate  development  goes.  I  never  knew 
a  class  of  business  men  so  endowed  with 
verve  and  empressement  as  our  real  estate 
dealers. 

We  were  informed  some  time  ago  that  the 
new  telescope  to  be  erected  on  Mount  Wilson 
will  bring  the  moon  within  twenty-two  miles 
of  the  earth.  And  when  I  read  it  I  had  my 
suspicions  that  if  the  moon  ever  comes  within 
twenty-two  miles  of  Los  Angeles,  our  ven- 
turesome real  estate  dealers  will  cut  it  up 
into  suburban  building  lots.  The  Padres  dis- 
covered Los  Angeles  and  then  the  promoters 
came  along  and  put  the  discovery  on  a  paying 
basis. 

We  are  enthusiastic  in  real  estate  develop- 
ment; we  are  not  slothful  in  business;  but  are 
we  truly  enthusiastic  in  work  for  our  Lord? 
Are  we  on  fire  in  this  Presbytery  with  Mis- 
sionary enthusiasm?  The  reading  of  the 
little  pamphlet  sent  out  a  few  weeks  ago  by 
the  Church  Extension  Board  of  our  Presby- 
tery will  not  fill  you  with  pride.  It  will  make 
your  face  red  with  humiliation. 

There  are  38  Presbyterian  Churches  and 
Missions  within  the  City  of  Los  Angeles. 
That  reads  well.  But  when  you  are  informed 
that  some  of  these  organized  churches  have 
no  church  buildings  whatever,  and  that  some 
of  them  are  worshiping  in  inadequate  tem- 
porary structures,  it  does  not  puff  you  up 
with  vanity. 

During  the  past  two  years,  our  Presbytery 
has  organized  27  new  churches.  But  there 
are  places  in  Imperial  Valley  that  are  crying 


out  of  real  need  for  more  commodious  hen 
of  worship;  and  there  are  not  less  than  three 
conspicuous  fields  within  our  city  that  ought 
to  be  organized  at  once  and  put  upon  their 
feet,  but  that  cannot  be  organized  for  lack  of 
funds.  Other  religious  denominations  stand 
out  of  our  way,  waiting  for  us  to  take  action, 
and  for  want  of  money  we  cannot  take  action. 
Los  Angeles  is  a  city  of  refinement  and  good 
taste,  and  we  dare  not  erect  a  cheap  and  ill- 
conditioned  structure  in  one  of  the  fine  resi- 
dence sections  and  persuade  the  neighborhood 
to  believe  that  it  is  a  Presbyterian  Church 
and  get  them  to  be  proud  of  it  and  to  go  into 
raptures  over  it. 

Our  Missionary  pastors  are  meagerly  sup- 
plied. Very  infrequently  does  a  Missionary 
pastor  in  this  Presbytery  receive  above  $1200 
per  year,  and  out  of  that  sum  he  must  find 
his  own  manse. 

Within  the  bounds  of  our  Presbytery  there 
are  a  quarter  of  a  million  of  unchurched,  na- 
tive American  whites;  there  are  80,000  Mexi- 
cans; there  are  15,000  Japanese;  there  are 
35,000  Negroes;  there  are  12,000  Chinese.  We 
are  doing  somewhat  to  carry  on  work  amongst 
our  Spanish  people.  We  have  five  Spanish 
Missions.  We  employ  five  Mexican  pastors, 
one  Mexican  evangelist,  and  one  social  settle- 
ment worker  who  gives  instruction  in  sew- 
ing, housekeeping  and  American  manners  to 
the  Mexican  girls. 

From  the  Home  Mission  boards  outside  Los 
Angeles  we  receive  for  our  Spanish  work 
$6100  per  year;  and  the  Foreign  Mission 
Board  contributes  largely  to  the  Chinese  work 
of  the  Presbytery.  We  have  two  Spanish 
Presbyterian  Churches  and  one  Spanish  Pres- 
byterian Mission  in  this  city.     We  have  one 

10 


Japanese  Presbyterian  Church  which  is  self- 
supporting. 

There  are  54  fields  within  this  Presbytery 
that  are  unable,  of  themselves,  to  support  a 
pastor,  and  that  need  the  financial  help  of  the 
more  favored  churches. 

Dr.  Kirkes,  our  efficient  Church  Extension 
Superintendent,  told  me  how  ready  the  poor 
are  to  help  themselves.  The  railroad  laborers 
up  in  the  mountain  district  of  Saugus  paid 
for  a  lot  on  which  to  erect  a  Sunday  School 
building  in  order  that  their  children  might 
have  religious  instruction.  And  he  told  me  of 
another  district  in  which  he  found  74  families 
outside  the  reach  of  any  church  who  were 
eager  to  have  a  Sunday  School  and  were  ready 
to  give  liberally  out  of  their  poor  means  to 
found  such  a  school. 

Our  Los  Angeles  Presbytery  is  big.  Are 
we  who  are  members  of  the  Presbytery  as  big 
as  the  Presbytery?  I  believe  the  women  of 
our  Missionary  Societies  are  as  big  as  the 
Presbytery,  and  I  believe  the  men  of  our 
Presbyterian  churches  are  a  great  deal  littler 
than  the  Presbytery.  The  women  study  the 
Missionary  situation  and  the  men  neglect  it. 
The  hearts  of  the  women  burn  with  Mis- 
sionary zeal,  while  the  hearts  of  the  men 
freeze  with  Missionary  indifference.  Were 
the  men  as  zealous  as  the  women,  were  they 
as  ready  to  give  and  did  they  give  in  the 
same  proportion  as  the  women,  there  would 
be  no  financial  problem  just  now  looking  us 
point-blank  in  the  face  in  this  God-favored 
section. 

It  is  largely  ignorance  that  keeps  the  men 
from  catching  fire  with  the  Missionary  spirit. 
They  do  not  know,  and  therefore  they  do  not 
care. 

II 


"When  they  know  they  care ; 
When  they  care  they  pray; 
When  they  pray  they  give/' 

* 

It  is  lack  of  knowledge  that  locks  up  many 
a  pocketbook. 

Bite  not  your  thumb  at  Missions,  O  you 
strong  man,  nor  ignore  them  as  something 
that  is  a  woman's  job  and  not  a  man's  job. 
In  this  Presbytery  it  is  a  man's  job,  a  big 
job  for  a  big  man,  and  when  you  come  to 
know  more  about  Missions  you  will  know 
you  know  less  that  you  used  to  think  you 
knew  when  you  knew  you  knew  everything. 

Some  of  you  husbands  know  that  your  wife 
knows  more  about  a  great  many  things  than 
you  know.  Some  of  you  husbands  know 
that  your  wife  occasionally  expresses  a  good 
opinion  about  something,  and  you  keep  quiet 
about  it  and  pretend  not  to  notice  it,  and  a 
few  days  afterward  you  bring  it  out  as  your 
own. 

St.  Paul  told  the  women  of  his  period  that 
when  they  wanted  to  know  anything  about 
religious  matters,  they  should  ask  their  hus- 
bands at  home.  Were  St.  Paul  living  now 
he  would  tell  the  husbands  that  when  they 
wanted  to  know  anything  about  religious 
matters,  particularly  about  Missions,  they 
should  inquire  of  their  wives. 

Our  Heavenly  Father  has  given  to  Presby- 
terian believers  in  this  Presbytery  a  huge  op- 
portunity, an  opportunity  too  large  to  be  told 
in  words.  The  Presbyterian  Church  has  al- 
ways been  a  Missionary  Church.  Presby- 
terianism  in  the  past  has  always  stood  for 
evangelization,  for  the  churching  of  the  un- 
churched, for  the  bringing  into  the  Kingdom 

12 


of  Christ  those  who  have  not  yet  heard  the 
Word  of  God. 

Presbyterianism  means  something ;  it  stands 
for  something.  It  stands  for  unswerving  fidel- 
ity to  the  inspired  Word,  and  for  the  promo- 
tion of  the  Truth.  It  stands  for  Mission  work, 
aggressive  Mission  work  in  the  Homeland 
and  in  Foreign  lands. 

Real  Presbyterianism  has  iron  in  its  blood 
and  the  fervor  of  a  great  conviction  in  its 
heart.  Presbyterianism  is  Calvinism  with  its 
coat  off  and  its  sleeves  rolled  up  to  the  elbow. 

Calvinism  was  originally  a  fixed  and  static 
faith  wrought  out  in  a  laboratory,  fused  in 
the  fires  of  a  pure  devotion,  refined  in  the 
crucible  of  serious  thought,  forged  on  the 
anvil  of  long  reflection.  That  was  the  older 
Calvinism.  But  modern  Presbyterianism  has 
taken  that  same  static  Calvinism  and  has 
transformed  it  into  a  dynamic  and  operative 
faith,  and  it  is  ready,  today,  to  meet  the  chal- 
lenge of  every  stress  and  of  every  crisis. 

Every  once  in  a  while  you  are  informed  that 
Calvinism  is  dead.  I  read  a  book  last  sum- 
mer that  was  written  to  prove  that  Calvinism 
is  dead  and  that  it  will  never  be  heard  from 
in  the  thinking  world  again. 

Maybe  some  of  you  remember  the  fine  old 
Irish  tale  called  "Michael  Monaghan's  Wake/' 
that  you  used  to  read  in  your  childhood. 
Michael  Monaghan  was  dead,  and  they  ap- 
pointed a  "wake"  to  be  held  over  him,  and 
they  gathered  at  the  cabin,  and  the  "wake 
was  in  full  going"  when  Michael  "came  to." 
And  he  rose  up  and  thrashed  the  undertaker 
and  two  of  the  chief  mourners  and  upset  the 
pedestals  and  threw  the  casket  out  of  the 
window, — and  they  said  of  him  afterwards 
that   if  he   was  dead   "he   was   sure  a  lively 

13 


corpse. n     Michael  refused  to  £>e  dead. 

And  so,  every  now  and  then,  some  pedantic 
journalist  proclaims  that  Calvinism  is  dead, 
that  that  system  of  theology  that  makes  God 
the  center  of  all  things  above  the  earth  and  in 
the  earth  and  under  the  earth  is  dead — but 
when  they  gather  to  hold  a  "wake"  over  it, 
Calvinism  refuses  to  be  dead,  and  asserts  itself 
and  demonstrates  its  immortal  virility  by  get- 
ting up  and  swinging  its  strong  arms  and 
going  forth  rejoicing  as  a  strong  man  to  run 
a  race. 

Gone,  perhaps,  is  the  old  Miltonian  the- 
ology; gone,  perhaps,  is  the  red-hot  whiplash 
of  the  old  satan-haunted  theology;  but  Cal- 
vinism is  not  gone. 

Through  Calvinism  runs  a  golden  string 
that  cannot  be  broken  nor  stretched,  that  all 
the  king's  horses  and  all  the  king's  men  can- 
not rend  asunder,  and  that  golden  string  is 
God's  Sovereignty  and  man's  dependence  upon 
God  free  grace.  Since  Adam  walked  through 
the  morning  dawn  of  history  a  hundred  gener- 
ations of  meddling  men  have  essayed  to  sunder 
that  golden  string,  but  it  remains  unbroken, 

I  believe  I  should  not  like  to  go  back  to 
the  Puritan  days  with  the  inflexible  Blue 
Laws.  But  one  of  your  fine  writers  says: 
"Better  a  time  when  a  man  was  forbidden  to 
kiss  his  wife  on  the  Lord's  Day  than  a  land 
without  any  Lord's  Day ;  better  a  solemn  face 
than  a  face  blotched  with  vice." 

When  one  looks  out  at  the  capricious  relig- 
ious hobbies  that  are  asking  for  disciples  to- 
day ;  when  one  hears  the  Soud  declarations  of 
belief  in  what  is  called  the  Fatherhood  of 
God,  but  which  means,  in  many  cases,  the 
doting  grandfatherhood  of  God;  when  one 
takes  note  of  the  assurance  man  is  getting  te» 

14 


have  in  himself — in  one  of  the  recent  whim- 
sies he  is  told  to  say  his  prayers  to  himself, 
to  get  down  on  his  knees  and  say  his  prayers 
to  his  subliminal  self  since  there  is  no  Eternal 
Person  standing  back  of  all  things, — when  one 
hears  the  philosophical  monism  of  the  time 
telling  man  that  he  is  only  a  gas-filled  bubble 
on  the  sea  of  existence,  that  death  will  prick 
the  bubble  and  that  he  wrill  sink  back  writh  the 
ioss  of  all  personality  and  of  all  conscious- 
ness into  the  great  reservoir, — when  one  wit- 
nesses all  of  that  irrational  unheaval,  when  one 
hears  all  of  that  delirious  ravings  that  relisr- 
ionistic  dementia  which  comes  to  us  disguised 
as  profound  learning,  I  think  one  could  bear 
to  feel  the  old  whiplash  of  the  old  theology 
curling  around  his  shoulders  now  and  then  to 
awaken  him  from  his  intellectual  stupidity  and 
to  bring  him  back  to  his  seven  senses. 

If  ever  Presbyterianism  was  needed  it  is 
needed  now;  and  if  in  any  place  it  is  needed  it 
is  needed  just  here  in  California.  And  when  we 
ask  you  to  give  money  and  to  give  thought 
and  energy  for  the  sending  out  of  Presbyte- 
rian workers  here  in  our  own  Homeland  we 
are  asking  you  to  engage  in  a  noble  and  ex- 
cellent work. 

God  is  giving  to  Presbyterianism  her  op- 
portunity in  the  Southland  just  now.  You 
know  that,  in  our  Scripture  lesson,  those  poor 
Israelites  turned  back  from  the  golden  gate- 
way and  refused  to  go  in.  They  wanted  the 
fruit  of  the  land,  but  they  were  afraid  to  face 
the  giants.  They  got  one  glimpse  of  the  good 
things  of  the  land,  and  then  they  turned  back. 

Some  one  tells  ns  that  the  reason  the  In- 
dians did  not  develop  California  and  make  a 
^reat  empire  of  it  before  the  white  man  came 
was  because  they  were  lazy,    "In  winter  they 

15 


sat  on  the  east  side  of  the  wigwam  and  fol- 
lowed the  sun  around  to  the  west,  and  in 
summer  they  sat  on  the  west  side  and  fol- 
lowed the  shade  around  to  the  east." 

They  would  not  work.  Of  course,  in  addition 
to  inborn  idleness,  the  Indian  had  no  vision  of 
Christ.  He  did  not  know.  But  we  have  the 
vision.  We  know.  And  God  is  giving  us  in 
California  our  great  chance.  The  milk  and 
the  honey  are  here  if  we  will  but  put  forth 
our  hands  and  work. 
"He  is  not  worthy  of  the  honeycomb 
Who  shuns  the  hive  because  the  bees  have 
stings/" 

And  if  Presbyterianism  turns  her  back  now 
upon  the  rich  opportunity  God  is  giving  her 
in  Southern  California,  He  will  take  the  work 
out  of  her  hands  and  will  give  it  unto  other 
husbandmen. 

I  wish  my  own  eyes  were  open  wider  than 
they  are  to  the  Mission  needs  and  possibili- 
ties of  this  big  Los  Angeles  Presbytery.  I 
wish  that  a  white  light  from  God's  Spirit 
might  flame  around  me  and  give  me  a  vision 
of  what  ought  to  be  done  in  this  Presbytery 
at  this  moment.  There  are  99  churches  in 
the  Presbytery,  and,  unhappily,  there  are  99 
units,  each  unit  endeavoring  to  look  out  for 
itself  to  the  best  of  its  ability  and  to  permit 
the  other  98  units  to  do  the  same.  I  am  glad 
there  are  99  churches,  but  there  ought  to  be 
only  One  Unit  and  that  unit  ought  to  be  the 
whole  Presbytery.  Every  church  ought  to 
care  about  the  growth  and  prosperity  of  all 
the  other  churches.  If  one  member  suffers 
we  ought  all  to  feel  the  hurt,  and  if  one  mem- 
ber rejoices  we  ought  all  to  feel  a  thrill  of 
joy. 

A  few  years  ago  Dr.  William   L.  Watkin- 

16 


son  gave  us  a  book  with  the  title,  **The  Duty 
of  Imperial  Thinking,"  and  in  his  book  he 
quoted  from  a  rare  writer  who  said,  "You 
never  enjoy  the  world  aright  until  the  sea 
itself  floweth  in  your  veins;  till  you  are 
clothed  with  the  heavens  and  crowned  with 
the  stars,  and  perceive  yourself  to  be  the  heir 
of  the  whole  world."  What  I  need  and  what 
you  need  and  what  every  person  in  our  Pres- 
bytery needs  is  a  course  of  training  along  the 
line  of  "Imperial  Thinking,"  thinking  largely, 
thinking  outside  of  ourselves,  thinking  outside 
our  own  local  churches,  thinking  about  the 
needs  of  the  whole  Church. 

And,  if  I  had  the  power  to  do  it,  I  would 
call  together  the  business  men  of  this  Pres- 
bytery, the  men  of  the  Official  Boards  of  the 
churches,  the  men  with  brains  and  with  the 
command  of  money,  together  with  the  pastors, 
and  I  would  have  some  one  who  knows  to  tell 
them  of  the  actual  needs  in  our  weak  churches 
at  this  moment,  and  just  what  funds  are  im- 
peratively necessary  to  meet  those  needs,  to 
meet  them  on  the  head  of  the  nail  without 
flinching;  and  then  I  would  have  means  de- 
vised to  raise  on  the  spot  the  necessary  mon- 
eys— not  to  talk  about  it — not  to  pass  eloquent 
resolutions  about  it — but  to  do  it — not  to  say, 
'Til  try,"  but  "I  will."  Do  you  know  that 
the  most  hopeless  characters  in  existence  are 
the  ones  who  spend  their  lives  saying  'Til 
try,"  while  the  men  who  make  the  world's 
wheels  go  round  spend  their  lives  saying  "I 
will"? 

It  is  about  time  for  some  of  us  to  get  down 
on  our  faces  before  God  and  to  learn  that  it  is 
not  saying  but  doing  that  is  going  to  save  us 
and  make  us  able  to  save  other  people. 

Maybe   it   would   be   wise   to   hold    such    a 

17 


proposed  meeting-  first  in  Los  Angeles  for  Los 
Angeles  alone,  and  after  we  have  shown  that 
the  work  can  be  done,  after  kindling  the  fires 
here  on  our  own  altars,  the  conflagration 
might  spread  to  every  altar  in  the  Homeland. 

\\re  (fare  not  be  narrow.  We  dare  not  say, 
"So  long  as  I  have  bread  for  myself  I  care 
not  who  starves/*  We  must  be  big.  We 
must  be  broad.  We  must  get  a  large  horizon. 
We  are  not  to  look  at  the  vision  through  little 
narrow  slits  of  eyes;  we  are  to  look  at  what 
God  is  offering  to  us  through  wide  open  eyes. 

Some  one  told  me  that  in  a  window  in  one 
of  our  downtown  stores  is  displayed  this  sign : 
"AH  things  come  to  him  who  canrt  wait."" 
We  used  to  say,  "AH  things  come  to  him  who 
waits";  but  nowadays  we  are  learning  that 
they  come  a  great  deal  faster  when  we  get  up 
and  go  after  them. 

If  it  were  possible  to  turn  this  vast  oppor- 
tunity over  to  the  Women's  Missionary  So- 
cieties I  am  sure  they  would  try  to  seize  it. 
If  they  had  the  same  financial  power  the  men 
have,  it  would  be  planned  for  and  accomp- 
lished before  the  next  seven  days  pass  away. 
The  women  have  the  willingness  without  the 
financial  ability;  the  men  have  the  financial 
ability  without  the  willingness.  And  I  pray 
for  the  hour  to  strike,  and  it  is  going  to  strike, 
when  the  willingness  and  the  financial  ability 
shall  be  vested  in  the  same  individual. 

You  and  I  are  living  in  "a  land  that  floweth 
with  milk  and  honey/"  and  ovtr  privileges  in 
this  most  blessed  land  under  the  blue  sky  of 
heaven  ought  to  fill  us  with  gratitude,  and 
our  hands  ought  to  be  open  wide  when  the 
Mission  offering  is  taken  at  the  close  of  this 
service. 

18 


Dr.  Herrick  Johnson  used  to  preach  to  his 
people  from  the  text:  "God  loveth  a  hilarious 
giver,"  and  he  was  warranted  in  using  the 
word  "hilarious,"  for  that  is  the  word  for 
"cheerful"  in  the  original  tongue.  Maybe  we 
are  not  to  give  because  we  enjoy  it,  but  until 
we  enjoy  it.  A  pious  old  German  used  to 
say:  "Ven  I  gif  villingly  it  enchoys  me  so 
much  that  I  gif  again." 

The  rich  man  with  "much  goods  laid  up  for 
many  years"  in  Jesus'  parable  was  not  cen- 
sured for  having  much  riches.  That  is  no  sin. 
His  sin  was  in  saying,  "I  have  enough  for 
myself,  and  it's  no  difference  about  anybody 
else."  He  was  not  condemned  because  he  was 
rich,  but  because  he  was  mean. 

Be  not  mean.  Give  gifts  out  of  a  thankful 
heart,  and  God  will  receive  them  and  bless 
them,  be  they  small  or  large.  My  friend,  Mr. 
R.  L.  James  of  San  Francisco,  gave  me  these 
lines : 

"  'Tis  not  by  weight  of  jewels  or  plate, 
Or  the  fondle  of  silk  and  fur, 

"Tis  the  spirit  in  which  the  gift  is  rich, 
As  the  gifts  of  the  wise  men  were ; 

And  we  are  not  told  whose  gift  was  gold, 
Or  whose  was  the  gift  of  myrrh." 

We  are  pioneers.  Generations  a  thousand 
years  from  now  will  look  back  at  us  and  speak 
of  us  as  pioneers.  It  is  worth  while  to  be 
doing  work  for  our  Lord  Jesus  in  California 
just  now.  We  are  laying  the  foundations  for 
innumerable  temples,  and  foundation-work  is 
hard  work. 

Those  Missionary  ministers  in  the  little,  in- 
conspicuous churches,  those  men  living  in  se- 
vere economy,  are  at  work  on  the  foundation 

19 


stones  of  structures  greater  than  they  know  or 
dream.  They  are  pioneer  churchmen.  Cali- 
fornia is  in  its  formative  stage.  We  are  plant- 
ing and  tilling  the  fields  in  order  that  the 
people  who  come  after  us  may  see  the  rivers 
of  milk  flowing  past,  and  may  feast  on  the 
fountains  of  honey. 

Los  Angeles  has  not  yet  entered  upon  its 
era  of  church  building.  We  have  three  or 
four  banks  in  this  city  that  are  as  splendid  as 
Buckingham  Palace;  but  we  have  not  yet 
begun  the  erection  of  majestic  churches  which 
are  worth  going  out  of  one's  way  just  to  look 
at.  Perhaps  it  is  because  there  are  so  many 
little  and  needy  churches  that  are  asking 
for  help.  But  the  era  of  church  building  will 
come.  The  future  is  secure  if  we  put  our 
hand  in  God's  hand  and  go  forward  with  the 
sunlight  of  hope  on  our  faces.  And,  if  we 
have  God's  grace  to  help  us, 

"We  men  of  earth  have  here  the  stuff 
Of  Paradise.     We  have  enough! 
We  need  no  other  thing  to  build 
The  stairs  into  the  unfulfilled, — 
No  other  ivory  for  the  doors, 
No  other  marble  for  the  floors, 
No  other  cedar  for  the  beam 
And  dome  of  man's  immortal  dream. 


"Here  on  the  paths  of  every  day, 
Here  on  the  common  human  way, 
Is  all  the  busy  gods  would  take 
To  build  a  Heaven ;  to  mould  and  make 
New  Edens.     Ours  the  stuff  sublime 
To  build  Eternity  in  time." 

20 

Andrew  J.   Johnson,  Printing,  719  W.   Seventh  St. 


Peace 


By 
Rev.  William  H.  Fishburn,  D.  D. 


A  Sermon  delivered  in  West  Adams  Presby- 
terian Church,  Los  Angeles,  California 
September  27,   1914 


Peace 


Matthew,  2:3.  "When  Heipd  th*  J\in,i  had  Jk$$yr$%%  thtse 
things,  he  was  troubled."  '  i  »•*•*»•  *  *Y 

If  you  will  look  in  your  history-book  you 
will  find  it  there  set  down  that  Herod  died 
some  nineteen  hundred  years  ago. 

That  is  a  mistake.  Herod  is  not  dead.  He 
is  living  at  this  hour,  his  face  wet  with  the 
same  fright-sweat,  his  soul  convulsed  with 
the  same  delirium  of  terror  that  shook  him  so 
many  long  centuries  ago. 

He  is  not  one  man  but  ten  men,  twenty  men, 
fifty  men.  He  has  multiplied  and  spread  him- 
self abroad  with  the  passing  of  the  years.  He 
holds  all  the  Eastern  Hemisphere  in  his  red 
and  dripping  hand. 

He  is  in  Russia,  he  is  in  Austria,  he  is  in 
Germany,  he  is  in  France,  he  is  in  England — 
but  everywhere  he  is  the  same  Herod  of  the 
Iron  Face  and  the  heart  that  knows  no  pity. 

This  Herod  in  our  Scripture-lesson  was  a 
menace  to  the  well-being  of  his  time  because 
he  was  a  man  of  power  entirely  in  love  with 
himself.  He  thought  of  no  one  but  himself. 
When  he  heard  of  the  Babe  that  had  been 
born  in  Bethlehem  he  felt  his  throne  tottering 
and  his  scepter  slipping  away.  He  feared  that 
Power  was  going  to  be  taken  out  of  his  hands 
and  given  into  other  hands. 

"Herod  was  troubled,"  etarachthe,  upset, 
turned  over,  thrown  about  as  the  water  in  the 
sea  is  thrown  about,  tossed  up  and  down ; 
"Herod  was  troubled/' 

God  touched  Herod's  black  soul  with  His 
white  finger,  and  "Herod  was  troubled."     He 


"PEACE" 


\vo.s  troub1ed  because  he  could  not  read  the 
signs  of  the  times.  He  could  guess  at  what 
those.. -signs  portended,  but  he  would  not  sub- 
n-i'  to  God.  lie  would  outwit  God.  He  would 
not  bow  his  neck  to  destiny. 

He  said  to  his  men  of  war:  "A  Baby  was 
born  in  Bethlehem  the  other  day — go  quickly 
to  Bethlehem  and  kill  every  boy  baby  in  that 
little  country  village. "  The  soldiers  went  to 
Bethlehem  and  did  as  they  were  instructed. 
They  destroyed  the  babes.  But  God's  hand 
was  guarding  the  life  of  that  One  Babe,  and, 
before  the  soldiers  realched  Bethlehem  the 
Babe  of  Destiny  had  been  carried  away  into 
safety. 

Herod  did  not  win  in  his  fight  against  God 
— Herod  was  vanquished.  That  Babe  grew 
up.  God  took  care  that  He  should  grow  up. 
When  He  reached  full  manhood  they  slew 
Him  on  a  cross.  But  it  was  impossible  ut- 
terly to  kill  the  Prince  of  Life.  They  slew 
Him,  but  He  rose  from  the  dead.  He  lives  to- 
day. He  walks  in  the  world  today  as  the 
Prince  of  Peace;  and  wherever  Herod  opens 
his  eyes  today  and  sees  Jesus  standing  before 
him  clothed  in  white  raiment,  Herod  is 
troubled. 

Not  only  was  the  Herod  in  our  Scripture- 
lesson  troubled,  but,  it  is  written,  "all  Jeru- 
salem was  troubled."  The  High  Priest  was 
troubled;  the  Ruler  of  the  Sanhedrin  was 
troubled ;  the  ministering  Priests  were  trou- 
bled ;  the  singing  Levites  were  troubled ;  ev- 
ery ecclesiastical  dignitary  was  troubled ;  ev- 
ery titled  aristocrat  was  troubled.  "All  Jeru- 
salem was  troubled." 


'PEACE" 


All  Europe  is  troubled  just  now.  All  the 
civilized  world  is  troubled.  When  we  open 
our  newspapers  we  are  troubled.  Morning, 
noon  and  night  you  feel  the  thought  of  this 
European  War  beating  in  your  brain  like  a 
hammer.  Sometimes  it  seems  to  you  as  if 
the  whole  universe  were  sliding  and  falling 
into  chaos  before  your  eyes. 

That  is  happening  in  Europe  at  this  moment 
the  like  of  which  the  sun  and  the  moon  have 
not  before  looked  down  upon  in  all  human 
time! 

Within  the  zone  of  European  conflict  it  is 
not  alone  the  Czar  of  Russia  and  the  Emperor 
of  Germany  and  the  President  of  France  and 
the  King  of  England  and  the  Emperor  of 
Austria  and  the  Ruler  of  Servia  who  are  trou- 
bled. Princes  and  nobles  and  grand  dukes 
and  arch-dukes  are  troubled  too.  They  appre- 
hend that  the  Clock  of  History  is  about  to 
strike  Twelve  for  them  and  for  their  cherished 
traditions,  and  that  a  new  day  is  about  to  dawn 
upon  the  world.  They  foresee  the  end  of  Des- 
potism, the  end  of  Militarism,  the  end  of  hered- 
itary Monarchy,  the  end  of  titled  aristocracy. 
They  see  the  world  in  pangs  over  the  birth  of 
a  new  Order  of  Government  wherein  royalty 
will  be  abolished,  wherein  "blue"  blood  will 
cease  to  receive  high  praise,  wherein  the  good 
"red"  blood  that  works  and  thinks  and  feels 
will  come  into  its  own  and  will  be  the  only 
blood  that  will  get  any  honor  in  the  earth. 

When  we  turn  our  faces  towards  Europe 
we  are  troubled.  When  we  see  millions  of 
angered  men  facing  each  other1  with  war- 
weapons   in   their   hands,   when   we    see  "the 


"PEACE" 


standards  of  the  people  plunging  through  the 
thunderstorm/'  we  are  troubled;  when  we  see 
the  black  vultures  swooping  down  out  of  the 
sky  "like  feathered  thunder,"  we  are  troubled. 
And  we  cannot  help  asking,  How  is  it  going  to 
end?  What  is  going  to  be  the  outcome  of  it 
all? 

My  people,  the  outcome  of  it  will  be  for  the 
world's  good.  Do  not  let  one  doubt  about  that 
arise  in  your  hearts.  God's  hand  is  back  of  it 
all.  You  will  miss  all  the  meaning  of  this  tu- 
mult if  you  permit  yourself  to  believe  that  the 
destinies  of  the  world  are  committed  to  the 
hands  of  Czars  and  Emperors  and  fighting 
men.  God  is  guiding  all  events,  just  as  He 
guided  events  in  Herod's  time;  and  the  end  of 
it  and  the  outcome  of  it  will  be  salutary  to  all 
our  race. 

This  War  burst  suddenly  upon  the  world. 
None  of  us  were  looking  for  it.  When  I  went 
away  for  my  vacation  two  months  ago  the 
Dove  of  Peace  seemed  to  be  hovering  over 
Europe.  And  then,  on  July  28th,  Austria  de- 
clared war  against  Servia.  Europe  drew  one 
long  breath,  and  by  August  7th  Russia,  France, 
Belgium  and  England  were  in  actual  war  with 
Germany.  And  now,  five  or  six  of  the  great 
world-powers  are  joined  in  the  terrible  car- 
nage. 

Our  public  prints  have  told  us  that  the  in- 
sane fury  of  a  schoolboy  of  eighteen  in  an  ob- 
scure town  in  Bosnia,  on  June  28th,  by  the 
assassination  of  a  man  of  noble  birth,  stirred 
up  the  anger  of  Austria;  Austria  lifted  up  her 
mailed  hand  against  Servia  and  awakened  the 
rage  of  Russia;   Russia  began  to  move,   and 


"PEACE" 


Germany  was  aroused ;  Germany  stirred  up 
the  wrath  of  France.  And  then,  over  the  pass- 
age through  Belgium  arose  the  anger  of  Eng- 
land. And  thus  all  Europe  is  red  with  the 
flame  of  war. 

In  our  Scripture-lesson  Herod  appealed  to 
the  ministers  of  religion.  He  went  to  the  chief 
priests  and  scribes.  He  wanted  to  have  his 
conscience  quieted  in  what  he  was  about  to 
do.  He  knew  what  he  was  about  to  do.  He 
knew  that  he  was  going  to  do  wrong,  and  he 
wanted  some  one  else  besides  himself  upon 
whom  he  could  lay  the  blame. 

Doubtless  you  have  seen  it  announced  that 
almost  every  one  of  the  Powers  engaged  in 
this  European  struggle  has  appointed  a  Day 
of  Prayer  wherein  victory  for  its  own  arms 
will  be  asked  for  in  petitions  to  the  God  of 
heaven,  while  the  destruction  of  all  opposing 
arms  will  be  entreated  for. 

I  can  imagine  a  prayer-meeting  down  in 
the  "Bad  Place"  wherein  the  tortured  souls 
might  petition  to  be  let  out ;  but  I  cannot  im- 
agine a  prayer,  even  from  the  lips  of  lost  souls, 
wherein  it  should  be  set  forth  that  while  they 
wanted  to  get  out  they  wanted  others  to  be 
cast  in. 

Herod,  we  have  said,  wanted  to  lay  the 
blame  for  his  sins  upon  somebody  else;  and  it 
seems  that  every  one  of  these  warring  gov- 
ernments is  trying  to  prove  that  one  or  other 
of  the  other  governments  started  this  war. 
Each  warring  party,  as  the  New  York  Times 
points  out,  proves  to  its  own  satisfaction  that 
it  is  the  injured  party,  the  victim  of  aggres- 


"PEACE" 


sion  by  another,  that  it  desires   peace  above 
all,  but  is  unwillingly  forced  to  self-defence. 

"Germany  proves  to  herself  that  she  longs 
for  peace,  but  that  'Russia's  mobilization  is  an 
act  which  she  could  not  ignore' ;  Russia  longs 
for  peace,  but  finds  Germany's  mobilizing  and 
'delaying  the  official  notice  of  her  mobiliza- 
tion/ so  that  'to  hesitate  longer  would  have 
been  to  court  disaster';  France  longs  for  peace, 
but  finds  Germany's  demands  couched  'in 
terms  so  harsh  as  to  merit  the  recall  of  the 
French  ambassador.'  " 

Who  is  to  blame  for  this  war?  Who  is  the 
protagonist?  The  New  York  Herald  tells  us 
that  the  Kaiser,  up  to  the  very  last  moment, 
"almost  went  down  on  his  knees  to  Russia"  to 
induce  her  to  desist  from  mobilization. 

According  to  several  statements,  French 
aviators  and  cavalry  patrols  along  the  border 
were  the  first  to  break  the  peace. 

Who  is  to  blame  for  this  war?  May  we  not 
say  that  Preparedness  for  War  is  to  blame 
for  it?  Is  not  the  fact  that  the  destinies  of  vast 
empires  are  left  in  the  hands  of  the  Herods, 
men  of  power  and  pride  and  heartlessness,  to 
blame  for  it?  And  will  not  it  be  better  for 
humankind  when  Christian  Democracy  ar- 
rives, and  power  is  wrested  from  the  hands  of 
the  few  and  is  given  into  the  hands  of  the 
many? 

We  have  been  telling  each  other  for  a  good 
many  years  that  huge  preparations  for  war 
were  a  guarantee  of  peace.  Special  pleaders 
in  our  National  House  of  Representatives  at 
Washington   have   asseverated   that   the   only 


"PEACE" 


way  to  preserve  peace  was  to  get  ready  for 
war. 

Have  you  considered  what  that  means?  It 
means  that  we  are  loudly  declaring  to  all  the 
rest  of  the  world,  "We  are  ready  for  you !  We 
are  better  armed  than  you  are.  If  you  con- 
struct a  six-inch  gun  we  will  construct  a  sev- 
en-inch gun;  if  you  mount  twelve-inch  guns 
on  your  battleships  we  will  mount  fourteen- 
inch  guns  on  ours ;  if  you  build  a  destroyer 
to  steam  thirty  knots  an  hour  we  will  build 
one  to  go  thirty-five  knots  an  hour." 

May  it  not  turn  out  that  there  shall  be 
found  a  better  way  to  keep  the  peace?  May 
not  disarmament,  leaving  a  sufficient  policing 
power  on  land  and  on  the  high  seas,  turn  out 
to  be  a  better  way  to  keep  the  peace  than  the 
way  that  is  now  the  fashion?  Has  not  dis- 
armament, at  least  in  a  few  cases,  proven  to 
be  a  better  safeguard  than  prodigious  arma- 
ment? 

Several  of  our  military  strategists  have 
pointed  us  to  that  line  that  stretches  over 
America  from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific 
marking  the  boundary  between  the  United 
States  and  Canada,  a  line  more  than  three 
thousand  miles  long,  a  line  that  is  not  guard- 
ed by  forts  nor  by  standing  armies  nor  by  dis- 
appearing guns,  and  have  informed  us  that 
across  that  unprotected  line  not  one  hostile 
shot  has  been  fired  in  one  hundred  years. 

Preparation  for  Peace  begets  Peace,  but  pre- 
paration for  War  begets  War.  For  nearly  two- 
score  years  six  millions  of  men  in  Europe  have 
been  waiting  with  muskets  in  their  hands  and 
with  knapsacks  packed,  to  rush  to  war  on  the 


10  "PEACE" 


first  click  of  the  telegraph.  And  the  telegraph 
clicked!  And  the  garments  of  Europe  are 
rolled  in  blood. 

Europe  is  said  to  have,  at  this  moment, 
fourteen  millions  of  men  under  arms  at  a  cost 
of  sixty  millions  in  money  for  every  twelve 
hours  of  daylight.  To  this  may  be  added  six- 
ty millions  more  in  blood  and  sweat  and  hor- 
ror and  sorrow  and  tears — one  hundred  and 
twenty  millions  in  every  seven  hundred  and 
twenty  hours  of  daylight — enough  in  every 
sixty  seconds  to  build  a  great  institution  for 
Charity  or  to  erect  a  noble  Church  to  the  wor- 
ship of  God — all  flung  away  as  if  it  were  cast 
into  the  fire. 

Wars  do  not  start  of  themselves.  There  are 
men  who  make  fortunes  out  of  war,  manu- 
facturers of  the  cutlery  of  war,  of  the  ma- 
chinery of  war.  There  are  professional  agi- 
tator's who  forever  cry  out  for  war,  but,  when 
war  comes,  thev  run  the  other  way  at  such 
a  speed  that  a  bullet  could  hardly  overtake 
them. 

War  in  the  abstract  ma^  be  poetical,  but 
war  in  the  concrete  is  what  General  Sherman 
is  said  to  have  called  it.  A  young  man  in  one 
of  your  magazine  stories  says:  "When  I  look 
at  my  grandfather's  sword  it  makes  me  hot, 
and  I  feel  that  I  want  to  go  to  war ;  but  when 
I  look  at  my  grandfather's  wooden  leg  it  cools 
me  down." 

We  need  to  be  reminded  that  this  war  in 
Europe  is  being  fought  by  boys.  Our  own 
great  Civil  War  was  fought  by  boys.  The  en- 
listment rolls  show  two  million  six  hundred 
thousand    enlistments,    of    whom    only    some 


"PEACE"  11 


sixty  thousand  were  above  twenty-one  years 
of  age.  More  than  two  and  a  quarter  million 
of  boys  fought  in  our  Civil  War. 

And  when  you  would  picture  to  yourself 
this  carnage  in  Europe  you  must  not  think  of 
well-seasoned  men  of  mature  years  with  grey 
hair — you  must  think  of  boys,  college  boys, 
school  boys — beautiful  German  boys,  noble 
English  boys,  handsome  Austrian  boys,  up- 
standing Scottish  and  Irish  boys,  strong- 
framed  Russian  boys,  undersized  French  boys 
— boys  with  forty  years  of  life  expectancy  be- 
fore them,  boys  with  the  boys'  hopes  in  their 
hearts  and  the  boys'  faraway  look  in  their  dear 
young  eyes — marching,  marching,  marching  to 
their  grapple  with  death. 

In  the  wars  of  Napoleon  Bonaparte  there  fell 
three  million  and  seventy  thousand  soldiers, 
and  two  millions  four  hundred  thousand  of 
them  were  boys,  boys  that  ought  to  have  been 
at  school  or  in  the  shelter  of  their  homes,  in- 
stead of  lying  dead  with  their  young  faces 
turned  to  the  sky. 

Europe  got  ready  for  war  and  she  has  in- 
herited war.  Here  are  some  figures  that  must 
be  taken  with  reserve,  as  they  are  gathered 
from  an  unofficial  source  and  may  be  unau- 
thentic. "In  France,  before  this  outbreak,  the 
government  was  expending  $5.12  on  her  army 
for  every  61  cents  she  was  expending  on  her 
schools.  England  paid  $5.81  for  war  while  she 
paid  77  cents  for  education.  Germany  paid 
$4.12  for  war  for  every  82  cents  she  paid  for 
education.  Russia  expended  $2.81  on  her  mil- 
itary preparations  for  every  3  cents  she  ex- 
pended on  her  schools."     Those  nations  were 


12  "PEACE" 


not  getting  ready  for  peace ;  they  were  getting 
ready  for  war — and  war  came. 

"Herod  was  troubled."  Why  was  he  trou- 
bled? Because  he  knew  that  he  was  not  right 
before  God.  Because  he  knew  that  his  own 
past  life  had  been  a  long  iniquity.  Because  he 
felt  that  a  Greater  than  he  was  coming  to  take 
his  throne  from  him  and  to  displace  him. 

The  imperial  men  of  Europe  are  troubled. 
They  are  afraid.  They  are  afraid  of  each 
other;  they  are  afraid  of  their  own  people; 
they  are  afraid  of  themselves;  they  are  afraid 
with  an  awful  fear  of  tomorrow  and  what  to- 
morrow may  bring  forth.  They  see  a  portentous 
destiny  written  in  the  stars.  Every  crowned 
head  in  Europe  sleeps  at  night  on  a  pillow 
stuffed  with  thorns,  and  nightmares  gallop 
through  their  slumbers. 

In  the  sixteenth  verse  of  our  lesson-chapter 
you  read  of  Herod's  rage.  The  wise  men 
mocked  him.  They  did  not  return  to  tell  him 
what  they  had  discovered.  "And  when  Herod 
saw  that  he  was  mocked  of  the  wise  men,  he 
was  exceeding  wroth. "  And  he  put  out  his 
hand  to  turn  aside  the  manifest  purposes  of 
God.  He  would  not  have  God  to  upset  his 
(Herod's)  plans.  He  would  beat  God  down. 
He  presumed  to  lay  his  impotent  finger  on 
the  spoke  of  God's  great  wheel.  And  the  wheel 
broke  him! 

The  king  cannot  always  have  his  way,  and 
it  is  well  he  cannot.  Suppose  that  Herod 
could  have  had  his  way,  the  Child  Jesus  would 
have  been  slain  in  His  babyhood,  and  there 
would  not  be  one  ray  of  sunshine  todav  play- 
ing over  human  history. 


'PEACE"  13 


The  Herods  of  Europe  have  decreed  war, 
but  with  God  belong  the  issues  of  battle.  The 
kings  cannot  say  what  the  end  shall  be.  God 
will  determine  what  the  end  shall  be. 

We  in  the  United  States  have  done  with 
hereditary  kings.  We  have  learned  that  we 
dare  to  trust  one  another.  Mr.  Gilbert  K. 
Chesterton,  the  British  essayist,  said  yester- 
day in  one  of  our  newspapers:  "Americans 
are  not  entitled  to  an  opinion  on  the  European 
war  because  Americans  do  not  understand  the 
peoples  of  Europe. " 

We  do  understand  them,  sirs.  We  have 
them  right  here  amongst  us.  We  have  "gath- 
ered the  chosen  of  our  seed  from  the  hunted 
of  every  crown  and  creed." 

Every  people  in  Europe  is  represented  in 
America.  They  live  side  by  side  in  harmony 
and  brotherly^  kindness.  They  are  next  door 
neighbors  on  our  country  farms  and  in  our 
towns  and  villages  and  in  our  congested  cities. 

They  do  not  fight  each  other;  they  do  not 
hate  each  other.  They  share  their  mutual 
joys  and  their  mutual  sorrows.  Wherever  the 
Stars  and  Stripes  blows  on  the  free  wind  over 
their  heads  they  are  like  brothers.  They  have 
learned  to  trust  each  other  and  not  to  watch 
each  other  and  to  fear  each  other.  And  it  is 
because  we  have  seen  it  with  our  own  eyes, 
men  and  women  out  of  every  kindred  and  na- 
tion and  tongue  and  people  dwelling  together 
like  brothers  and  sisters  under  one  flag,  with- 
out any  king  over  them,  or  any  titled  aristoc- 
racy to  wrong  them  and  embitter  them,  that 
we  feel  that  we  are  capable  of  giving  sane  and 


14  "PEACE" 


wise  counsel  to  the  battling  factions  of  Eur- 
ope. 

We  do  understand  these  beloved  peoples. 
We  understand  them  better  than  Mr.  Chester- 
ton understands  them,  better  than  any  crown- 
ed monarch  in  Europe  understands  them,  be- 
cause we  have  seen  them  tried  in  the  fire,  we 
have  tested  them,  and  we  know  that  it  is  true 
that  God  "hath  made  of  one  blood  all  nations 
of  men  that  dwell  on  all  the  face  of  the  earth," 
and  He  made  them  not  to  suspect  one  another 
as  Herod  would  teach  them  to  do,  but  to  love 
one  another,  to  help  one  another,  and  to  dwell 
together  in  unity. 

We  Americans  say  it,  that  no  empire  that  is 
propped  up  by  bayonets  and  inflated  by  can- 
non-smoke can  permanently  survive;  and  any 
Goliath  that  struts  out  in  armor-plate  and 
boasts  of  death-dealing  engines  and  guncot- 
ton  and  lyddite  shells,  will  be  met  some  day 
by  the  flat  stone  out  of  the  sling  of  the  peas- 
ant boy,  and  will  go  down  to  ignominious 
death. 

It  was  left  to  a  mere  handful  of  men  in 
Europe  to  say  that  this  war  should  be  fought. 
Were  not  the  hundreds  of  thousand  of  boys 
who  were  to  be  slaughtered  in  this  tragedy  en- 
titled to  say  something  as  to  whether  this  war 
should  be  or  should  not  be?  Ought  not  the 
right  to  speak  be  given  to  the  men  who  are  to 
be  doomed  to  die?  For  ages  upon  ages  the 
crowned  despots  have  played  with  the  lives 
of  men  with  the  same  coolness  and  poise  that 
gamesters  exhibit  when  playing  with  the  in- 
animate figures  on  a  chessboard. 

May  not  we  hope  that  Imperialism  is  going 


"PEACE"  15 


now  to  be  destroyed?  That  Kaisers  and  Czars 
and  Emperors  are  going  to  be  abolished?  That 
military  oligarchies  are  going  to  disappear?  Is 
not  the  doom  of  autocratic  government  even 
now  sounding?  Has  not  militarism  survived 
too  long?  Have  not  the  plain  people  of  Eur- 
ope been  kept  out  of  their  own  too  long? 

You  and  I,  sirs,  who  are  standing  here,  may 
see  the  going  out  of  the  last  crowned  head  in 
the  world  before  we  taste  of  death! 

There  are  journalists  who  assume  to  be  able 
to  tell  us  how  this  war  is  going  to  end.  There 
are  bold  interpreters  of  the  signs  of  the  times 
who  assure  us  that  this  will  be  the  last  war 
that  ever  will  shake  the  world. 

How  do  they  know?  Have  not  the  wise 
books  been  telling  us  for  many  years  that 
there  never  could  be  and  there  never  would 
be  a  great  war  again?  When  I  read  a  book 
fifteen  years  ago  by  a  Polish  banker,  Mr. 
Bloch,  "Is  War  Now  Impossible,"  in  which 
he  showed  by  mathematics  that  no  great  war 
could  ever  again  be  fought,  I  believed  him. 
When  I  read  Count  Tolstoi's  books  ten  years 
ago  on  the  dyino-  out  of  the  war  spirit,  I  be- 
lieved him.  When  I  read  Mr.  Norman  An- 
gell's  book,  "The  Great  Illusion, "  four  years 
ago,  assuring  us  that  the  last  great  war  had 
probably  been  fought,  I  believed  him.  When 
I  read  Wilhelm  Lamszus's  blood  red  book  one 
year  ago,  "The  Human  Slaughter-House,"  a 
book  that  is  sickening  with  the  smell  of  iodo- 
form and  the  odor  of  blood,  and  that  shows 
that  war  is  illogical  and  inhuman,  I  shuddered 
and  acquiesced.  When  I  read  President  Jord- 
an's book  last  fall,  "The  Unseen   Empire,"  I 


16  "PEACE" 


endorsed  every  line  of  it.  I  believed  in  the  soul 
of  my  soul  that  war  was  an  anachronism,  that 
war  was  over  and  done  with.  And  then  this 
war  came  and  my  faith  in  the  logic  of  books 
was  unsettled. 

How  do  you  know  that  this  war  that  is 
raging  now  is  going  to  be  the  final  war?  And 
how  do  you  know  in  advance  how  it  is  going 
to  end? 

There  are  many  whose  sympathies  for  one 
side  or  the  other  in  this  conflict  are  very 
marked.  There  are  many  who  believe  they 
know  which  side  they  wish  to  win.  I  do  not 
know  where  my  own  sympathies  are;  and  I 
do  not  know  which  army  ought  to  win. 

We  are  told  on  the  one  hand  that  if  the 
Germans  win  we  shall  have  all  Europe  sub- 
merged under  a  great  military  despotism; 
while  if  the  allies  win  there  will  be  a  Cossack 
Europe  with  the  Czar  of  all  the  Russias  as  the 
dominant  man  in  European  civilization.  Mr. 
Begbie  in  a  conversation  with  Mr.  Angell  thus 
pictures  the  war's  progress:  "Russia  will  call 
a  million  sixteenth  century  peasants  from  the 
fields,  and  Germany  will  mow  them  down. 
Another  million  takes  their  place.  Death  again. 
Another  million.  And  yet  another  million  of 
these  sixteenth  century  peasants.  And  when 
it  is  all  over  those  who  are  left  will  go  back 
to  their  fields  ....  Happy  the  Russian  peas- 
ant who  will  go  back  to  his  sixteenth  century 
and  his  field,  telling  the  time  by  the  sun's 
shadow." 

My  sympathies  are  everywhere.  I  have  no 
hate  for  the  sixteenth  century  Russian  peasant- 
boy,  the  low-browed,  uninstructed  lad,  patient, 


"PEACE"  17 


ox-like.  He  is  my  brother.  I  have  no  hate  for 
the  French  boy,  who  is  fighting  in  the  trenches 
in  water  to  his  waist.  He  is  my  brother.  I 
have  no  hate  for  the  valiant  English  boy  ,who 
faces  the  guns  that  are  spurting  death.  He  is 
my  brother.  I  have  no  hate  for  the  German 
boy  who  believes  in  his  soul  that  he  is  turning 
back  destruction  from  his  beloved  Fatherland. 
He  is  my  brother.  The  horror  of  it  is  that  they 
are  brothers  who  are  struggling,  and  the 
Father  is  looking  on! 

And  the  Father  cares  how  it  turns  out.  He 
is  more  concerned  than  you  are.  He  cares  more 
for. how  it  will  end  then  you  do.  They  are 
His  Children  who  are  locked  in  the  death- 
grapple. 

Hope  as  you  please;  give  your  sympathies 
to  which  armed  host  you  please,  the  God  who 
is  looking  on  will  decide  the  issues  and  His 
decision  will  be  just.  The  end  of  it  may  be 
something  that  no  living  man  can  forecast. 
The  guess  of  the  man  in  the  street  is  as  likely 
to  be  right  as  the  guess  of  the  man  in  the 
pulpit.  But  of  this  be  assured,  my  people,  God 
is  looking  on,  and  God  will  decide  what  the 
end  shall  be. 

The  real  Conquerors  at  last  will  be  those 
who  are  most  skilled,  not  in  the  arts  of  War 
but  in  the  arts  of  Peace. 

A  few  years  ago  I  saw  in  Philadelphia  a 
great  painting  and  large,  in  which  the  artist 
had  attempted  to  portrav  the  Glory  of  War. 
The  title  of  the  painting  was  "The  Conqur- 
ors. 

In  the  foreground  War-Generals  were  com- 
ing towards  you,  some  on  horses,  some  in  bat- 


18  "PEACE" 


tie-chariots,  and  you  could  almost  hear  the 
rumbling  of  rolling  wheels  and  the  champing 
of  iron  bits.  The  characters  in  the  picture 
were  unnamed,  but  you  looked  not  long  until 
their  names  dawned  upon  you. 

There  in  the  front  rank,  I  said  to  myself, 
were  Alexander  of  Macedon,  Julius  Caesar  of 
Rome,  Hannibal  of  Carthage,  Cyrus  of  Persia, 
Semiramis  of  Nineveh,  Attila  of  Hungary, 
Wellington  of  England,  Bonaparte  of  France. 

Standing  there  and  looking  long  at  the  vast 
procession  coming  towards  me  rank  on  rank 
I  thought  I  could  see  Leonidas  with  set  teeth ; 
Charlemagne  with  his  long  scowl ;  Philip  the 
Second  with  foam  on  his  lip ;  William  the  Con- 
queror in  brazen  helmet;  Genghis  Khan  with 
scarlet  sword. 

On  either  side  of  the  riders,  prone  on  the 
ground,  as  far  back  as  the  eye  could  penetrate, 
I  saw  the  long  swaths  of  the  dead  piled  in 
heaps,  with  the  chariot  wheels  rolling  over 
them.  Above  the  dead  hovered  a  brooding 
cloud ;  above  the  mounted  Generals  danced 
an  aurora  of  golden  fire. 

Those  were  the  Conquerors.  They  were 
masters  of  the  art  of  destruction,  and  that 
made  them  great. 

I  thought  while  I  stood  there,  and  I  have 
often  thought  since,  of  another  picture  that 
might  be  painted  of  the  Conquerors.  But  in 
my  imaginary  picture  my  Conquerors  were 
Helpers  of  men,  not  slayers  of  men. 

Here  I  placed  Faust  and  Guttenberg  with 
their  little  printing  press;, Watt  and  Stevenson 
with  their  rude  locomotive,   Galileo  with  his 


"PEACE"  19 


telescope,  Humphrey  Davy  with  his  safety- 
lamp. 

Here  I  placed  Howe  with  his  sewing  ma- 
chine, Morse  with  his  telegraph  instrument, 
Franklin  with  his  kite,  Field  with  his  submar- 
ine cable,  Whitney  with  his  cotton  gin. 

Here  were  Edison  and  Tesla  and  Marconi 
pouring  out  blessings  of  invention.  Here  were 
Pasteur  and  Koch  and  Kelvin  and  Ehrlich  and 
MetchnikofI  and  Roentgen  and  Morton  and 
Lister  with  their  hands  full  of  healing  for  their 
kind. 

To  myself  I  called  that  a  fairer  picture  of  the 
Conquerors,  for  these  men  were  Builders,  and 
all  around  them  was  the  music  of  Commerce 
and  of  the  Arts  of  Peace. 

And  then  I  dared  to  think  of  a  third  picture 
of  the  Conquerors,  and  this  was  the  picture. 
In  the  center  of  it  stood  the  shining  cross  of 
One  who  had  been  crucified,  and  beside  it 
stood  the  Christ.  Near  to  Him  stood  James 
and  John,  Peter  and  Paul,  Stephen  and  Philip 
— men  who  counted  not  their  life  dear  unto 
themselves. 

Here  were  the  blessed  martyrs,  a  host  I 
could  not  count,  with  eyes  turned  heavenward 
and  ecstasy  upon  their  faces.  Here  were  the 
Reformers,  stalwart  men  who  spoke  out  when 
it  was  perilous  to  speak  out,  Huss  and  Cran- 
mer,  Savonarola  and  Luther,  Zwinglius  and 
Knox,  Wyclif  and  Jerome.  Here  were  Mis- 
sionaries, men  who  had  looked  in  the  faces  of 
wild  men — Saint  Patrick  and  Saint  Augustine; 
Carey  and  Livingstone ;  Adoniram  Judson  and 
Chinese  Gordon ;  Hudson  Taylor  and  Father 


20  "PEACE" 


Damien — men  who  went  up  to  victory  out  of 
great  tribulation. 

That  was  my  last  picture  of  the  Conquerors, 
and  all  around  them  stood  an  innumerable 
company  with  songs  on  their  lips  and  faces 
that  gazed  into  a  blessed  hereafter  on  the  other 
side  of  the  stars. 

This  Gospel  of  Jesus  is  destined  to  be  the 
Conqueror.  The  Gospel  of  Hate  will  continue 
to  stamp  its  hard  hoof  on  our  planet  until  the 
Gospel  of  Christ  shall  have  subdued  and  mas- 
tered human  anger  and  shall  have  made  of  it 
an  obsolete  thing.  War  will  not  totally  dis- 
appear until  the  Strong  Son  of  God  shall  reign 
supreme  in  every  human  heart. 

God  the  All-Merciful!    Earth  hath  forsaken 
Thy  ways  of  blessedness,  slighted  Thy  Word ; 
Bid  not  Thy  wrath  in  its  terrors  awaken! 
Give  to  us  Peace  in  our  time,  O  Lord! 

God  the  All-Righteous  One !  Man  hath  defied 

Thee; 
Yet  to  eternity  standeth  Thy  Word! 
Falsehood  and  wrong  shall  not  tarry  beside 

Thee, 
Give  to  us  Peace  in  our  time,  O  Lord! 


RED  BLOOD 


WILLIAM  H.  FISHBURN 


(Price  Ten  Cents) 


Red  Blood  Is  Red 


<£>r*^> 


By 
REV.  WILLIAM  H.  FISHBURN,  D.D. 


A  Sermon   Delivered  in  West  Adams  Presbyterian 

Church,    Los    Angeles,    California, 

April  28,   1918 


Published  by  order  of  the  Session. 


Red  Blood  Is   Red 


Matt.  17:20,  "If  ye  have  faith  as  fc 
grain  of  mustard  seed,vVe  shall  s%?\u\tq. 
this  mountain,  Remove  hence!  .      . 

And  it  shall  remove.*' 


As  some  persons  interpret  these  words  of 
Jesus,  they  must  seem  like  the  veriest  undi- 
luted nonsense.  "Ye  shall  say  unto  this  moun- 
tain, 'Remove  hence  T  and  it  shall  remove." 

Walk  to  your  door  and  command  Mt.  Lowe 
to  remove.  Charge  Mt.  Wilson  to  vanish.  Or- 
der the  Sierra  Madre  range  to  disappear.  Will 
they  go?    They  will  not! 

The  kind  of  Faith  that  would  look  calmly 
out  of  its  door  and  issue  orders  to  the  moun- 
tains would  never  make  them  go,  but  the  Faith 
that  makes  plans  and  prepares  blue-prints  and 
uses  spades  and  pick-axes  and  blasting  powder 
will  remove  mountains. 

Our  Lord  is  not  thinking  about  mountains 
of  clay  and  rock  and  gravel.  Anybody  with 
the  tools  of  labor  can  remove  that  sort  of 
mountain.  He  is  thinking  about  mountains  of 
evil ;  mountains  of  obstruction  that  get  in  the 
path  of  every  forward-looking  person ;  moun- 
tains of  difficulty;  mountains  of  tragedy  that 
strike  through  human  lives,  and  the  like, — 
they  are  the  mountains  that  can  be  moved  out 
of  the  way  by  nothing  but  a  giant  faith,  a 
masterful,  red-blooded  faith,  a  faith  that  be- 
lieves in  God  and  translates  its  belief  into 
work. 

Jesus  is  not  calling  attention  to  the  little- 


ness  of  the  mustard  seed ;  He  is  calling  at- 
tention to  the  immense  power  that'  resides  in 
it  in  spite  of  its  littleness.  He  does  not  say, 
"If  ye  have  feith  as  a  grain  of  sand,"  or  "If 
ye  have  faith  as  a  grain  of  dust."  They  are 
lifeless.     The  mustard  seed  is  alive. 

Maybe,  if  we  had  a  microscope  of  greater 
magnifying  power,  we  might  look  into  that 
little  speck  of  a  thing  called  a  mustard  seed 
and  see  a  living  pulse  beating  in  the  very  cen- 
ter of  it.  Every  molecule,  every  atom  within 
this  tiny  shell  works,  works  mightily,  works 
harmoniously.  Somewhere  within  it  is  life, 
potent,  unconquerable  life,  life  that  will  burst 
through  this  husk  and  multiply  itself  a  thou- 
sand-fold. 

The  mustard  seed  is  a  little  vegetable  dy- 
namo, packed  from  center  to  circumference 
with  power.  And  faith,  the  kind  of  faith  that 
our  Lord  says  can  remove  mountains,  turns  a 
man  into  a  human  dynamo. 

Mountains  to  be  removed  by  Faith, — there  is 
a  chain  of  mountains  stretching  across  Europe 
and  half  way  across  Asiatic  Russia, — moun- 
tains of  imperialism,  mountains  of  tyranny, 
mountains  of  oppression,  mountains  of  brutal- 
ity,— and  all  of  them  are  going  to  be  made 
level  with  the  ground  in  your  time  and  mine, 
and  they  are  going  to  be  leveled  by  Faith.  But 
it  is  the  kind  of  faith  that  resides  in  the  mus- 
tard seed,  living  faith,  vital  faith, — faith  of  the 
kind  that  builds  ships,  and  airplanes,  and  can* 
non,  and  machine  guns,  and  rifles, — that 
forges  swords  and  bayonets, — that  sends  forth 
man-power, — faith  that  is  going  to  win  be- 
cause it  believes  and  lives  its  faith  in  its  life. 

Some  of  you  have  a  wrong  mental  picture 
of  faith.  You  think  of  it  as  a  quiet  man  sit- 
4 


ting  in  a  cushioned  chair  and  getting  things 
done  because  he  hopes  and  expects  and  waits. 
That  is  not  faith.  That  is  religious  laziness. 
Faith  is  a  man  clad  in  war-harness,  squared 
jaw,  head  down,  teeth  set,  going  over  the  top 
with  fixed  bayonet, — fighting  for  the  rights  of 
man, — ready  to  give  his  blood  for  the  rights 
of  man.  That  is  faith.  That  is  the  faith  that 
removes  mountains. 

A  great  many  of  our  artists  have  confound- 
ed faith  with  trust.  They  portray  faith  as 
tranquility.  Faith  is  not  tranquility ;  it  is  trust 
that  is  tranquility.  You  have  seen  that  fine 
engraving  of  a  little  child  kneeling  beside  a 
crib,  uplifted  eyes,  folded  hands,  a  beam  of 
morning  sunshine  illuminating  the  sweet  face, 
— and  the  picture  is  called  "Faith."  That  is 
not  faith ;  it  is  trust. 

A  picture  of  real  faith  is  Jacob,  there  in 
the  dark  by  the  brook  Jabbok,  wrestling 
through  the  long  night  with  a  mighty  angel, 
wrestling  until  his  thews  and  sinews  snap  and 
his  bones  are  out  of  joint.  A  picture  of  real 
faith  is  the  strong  Christ  bowed  there  in  the 
Garden  of  Gethsemane,  bowed  all  along  upon 
the  ground,  praying,  praying,  praying  to  the 
Father  until  His  sweat  is  like  great  drops  of 
blood  falling  down  to  the  ground. 

Faith  and  Trust  must  not  be  confounded. 
Faith  is  no  more  like"  Trust  than  nitroglycerin 
is  like  oil  of  roses ;  than  a  naked  sword  is  like 
an  olive  branch;  than  an  eagle  is  like  a  dove. 
Faith  is  alive.  Faith  without  works  is  dead. 
So  is  a  clock.  So  is  a  watch.  A  clock  or  a 
watch  without  works  is  dead.  Faith  without 
works  is  dead.  Faith,  the  kind  of  faith  that 
our  Lord  Jesus  taught  earnest  men  to  have, 
is  the  thing  that  makes  all  other  things  go. 

S. 


We  Americans  are  a  people  at  war.  We 
are  facing  the  mountains  of  Kaiserism  which 
is  Prussianism  which  is  diabolism, — and  com- 
manding it  in  God's  name  to  go, — to  be  cast 
into  the  midst  of  the  sea.  But  it  is  not  going 
to  go  because  we  talk  to  it  or  write  letters  to 
it  or  issue  order  to  it,  but  only  because  we 
smite  it  and  pierce  it  and  stab  it  and  wound  it 
with  a  sword  that  drips  blood  at  every  stroke 
and  every  thrust. 

The  Sword  of  Faith  is  a  red  sword.  It  is  a 
sword  that  draws  blood.  "Without  shedding 
of  blood,"  says  this  Book,  "there  is  no  re- 
mission/' Everything  we  win  we  win  with 
the  precious  coin  of  blood  drops.  The  only 
money  that  has  purchased  our  progress,  our 
civilization,  our  growth  upward  and  God-ward, 
is  the  red  money  that  comes  out  of  the  veins 
of  living  men.  Faith  means  the  shedding  of 
blood.  To  convince  yourself  of  that,  read  the 
Faith  Chapter,  the  11th  of  Hebrews,  and  see 
how  that  chapter  runs  red  with  the  blood  of 
heroes, — men  and  women, — whose  deeds  God 
has  put  on  the  tablets  of  everlasting  remem- 
brance. 

Faith  does  not  mean  just  "standing  fast;" 
it  means  doing  things.  To  stand  fast  in  one 
place  is  not  enough.  You  must  be  "carrying 
on."  The  boy  Casabianca  stood,  "stood  fast" 
on  the  burning  deck,  and  then  there  was  a 
loud  noise  and  "the  boy,  Oh,  where  was  he?" 

Our  Lord  Jesus  did  not  just  stand  fast.  He 
moved.  He  went  into  peril.  He  faced  angry 
men.  He  spoke  the  truth  to  men's  faces  in 
words  that  stung  like  a  whiplash  of  fire. 

I  wish  from  the  heart  of  me  that  no  artist 
had  ever  attempted  to  paint  a  picture  of  Jesus. 
Jesus  was  not  like  the  gentle  and  velvety  pic- 
6 


tures  represent  Him  to  have  been.  He  was  a 
majestic  Man.  He  made  sacrifices.  He  was 
ready  to  die  for  what  He  believed.  He  did 
die  for  what  He  believed. 

Sirs,  you  must  not  imagine  that  Jesus  went 
tip-toeing  through  the  world  softly  and  gently 
lest  He  wake  somebody  up.  He  woke  every- 
body up.  He  was  the  Lion  of  the  Tribe  of 
Judah.  He  was  the  strongest  figure  that  ever 
walked  through  human  history.  His  master- 
ful presence  drove  bargaining  Jews  out  of 
the  temple  and  with  His  strong  hand  He  over- 
turned their  money-tables  and  scattered  their 
treasured  coins  on  the  marble  floor.  His  up- 
lifted hand  turned  back  the  mob  on  the  night 
of  the  betrayal  and  they  fell  before  Him  with 
their  lips  in  the  dust.  Jesus  is  strong!  He 
is  the  Man !  He  is  mighty !  He  is  the  Mas- 
ter! He  is  the  center  of  our  Faith.  Looking 
at  Him,  imitating  Him,  we  become  possessed 
of  the  faith  that  removes  mountains. 

Walk  beside  Jesus  and  He  will  not  take 
you  through  the  easy  places,  He  will  lead 
you  through  the  hard  places,  through  the  dan- 
gerous places,  through  the  places  of  pain  and 
sadness,  through  the  places  of  storm  and  bat- 
tle,— He  went  through  all  of  them  Himself, — 
but  He  will  be  beside  you  all  the  time,  the 
Strong  Son  of  God,  to  shield  you  and  to  lead 
you  safe  through  into  the  Great  Light! 

You  cannot  remove  mountains  by  sitting  in 
your  parlor  in  a  rocking  chair  and  trying  to 
think  them  out  of  existence.  You  cannot  say 
a  form  of  words  over  them  like  the  presti- 
digitators do:  "Exi!  Exi!  hocus  pocus!  Abra- 
cadabra !"  and  expect  them  to  go.  Jesus  never 
taught  that  the  kind  of  faith  that  would  re- 
move mountains  was  of  the  type  that  would 

7 


make  you  cozy  and  comfortable.  He  taught 
that  His  kind  of  faith  would  lead  you  into 
life's  hard  battles,  but  it  would  give  you  joy, 
the  joy  of  conquest,  the  joy  of  final  victory. 

We  have  a  hymn  that  says  : 
"Must  I  be  carried  to  the  skies 

On  flowery  beds  of  ease, 
While  others  fought  to  win  the  prize, 

And  sailed  through  bloody  seas?" 

There  are  those  who  sing  that  hymn  as 
though  they  scorned  all  thought  of  ease,  and 
then,  immediately  after,  close  the  hymn  book 
and  go  out  and  live  the  sort  of  life  that  proves 
that  they  want  to  get  to  heaven  in  the  easiest 
way,  without  any  toil  or  any  blood  or  any  sac- 
rifice. 

They  will  tell  you  that  they  feel  safe;  that 
they  have  so  much  faith  in  God  that  they  are 
sure  everything  is  going  to  come  out  all  right ; 
and  that  the  mountain  of  Kaiserism  is  going 
to  be  removed ;  and  that  you  mustn't  worry 
about  it;  and  that  everything  is  going  to  be 
just  perfectly  lovely. 

To  feel  safe  in  the  hours  through  which  we 
are  now  passing  is  not  a  display  of  faith  in 
God;  it  is  a  display  of  foolhardiness ;  it  is  a 
display  of  credulity.  We  have  been  safe  up 
to  this  moment  from  the  direct  attacks  of  the 
Huns  not  on  account  of  our  foolhardy  faith, 
but  on  account  of  Great  Britain's  wall  of  steel 
battleships.  And  those  who  feel  safe  just 
now  are  dreaming  a  fool's  dream;  are  living 
in  an  idiot's  paradise. 

Doubtless  some  of  these  persons  are  pious; 
but  the  presence  of  piety  in  a  heart  does  not 
prove  that  one  has  good  common  sense.  I 
have  known  persons  who  seemed  to  me  to  be 


as  righteous  as  Abraham,  who  did  not  possess 
the  brains  of  a  rabbit. 

The  opposite  of  faith  is  not  doubt.  Doubt 
is  a  passive  thing.  The  opposite  of  faith  is 
unbelief.    Unbelief  is  an  active  thing. 

If  you  have  lived  through  the  past  four 
years  without  any  doubts,  without  walking 
out  at  night  under  the  stars  and  having  your 
mind  torn  and  rent  with  doubt,  without  being 
stunned  and  dizzy  now  and  then  with  doubt, 
— it  is  not  a  sign  that  you  have  strong  faith, 
it  is  a  sign  that  you  do  not  possess  a  reason- 
ing sense.  But  real  faith,  the  faith  that  is  able 
to  remove  mountains,  seizes  the  doubts  and 
fights  them  and  overcomes  them  and  looks 
past  them  to  God,  and  then  goes  on  battling 
and  believing  in  spite  of  the  doubts. 

Keep  it  in  your  minds,  sirs,  that  faith  is 
not  a  virtue  of  the  pacifist,  of  the  slacker. 
Faith  does  not  make  the  pacifist  and  the 
slacker  what  they  are.  The  lack  of  a  spinal 
column  makes  them  what  they  are. 

An  enterprising  butcher  had  an  advertise- 
ment in  your  paper  yesterday,  "Backbones, 
17  cents."  His  store  ought  to  have  been 
crowded  to  the  walls  by  the  pacifists  and  the 
slackers. 

People  with  pink  tea  in  their  veins,  people 
who  are  afraid  to  fight  and  then  blame  it  on 
their  religion,  people  with  thin,  watery  blood, 
must  not  think  of  thesmselves  as  red-blood 
people. 

Real  red  blood  is  red,  it  is  never  pacifist;  it 
is  never  neutral;  it  is  never  watery  and  thin; 
it  is  red ;  it  is  vital ;  it  is  alive. 

It  is  your  good  fortune,  my  people,  and 
mine,  to  be  citizens  of  the  United  States  of 


America,  a  great  Republic.  A  Republican  form 
of  Government  is  the  highest  form  of  Govern- 
ment ever  devised  by  man,  but  it  can  really 
govern  none  but  the  highest  form  of  people. 
A  Republic  has  no  machinery  to  strike  back 
at  the  pacifist  and  slacker  and  the  spy  and  the 
traitor.  A  Republic  is  slow;  it  is  patient;  it 
waits.  Mr.  Daniels,  Secretary  of  the  Navy, 
at  the  Governor's  meeting  in  Washington  on 
April  7th,  said:  "The  greatest  criticism  heard 
is  against  the  timorous  attitude  of  our  Na- 
tional Government  towards  treason."  Speak- 
ing of  the  slackers  and  the  spies,  he  said :  "We 
will  put  the  fear  of  God  into  the  hearts  of 
those  who  live  among  us  and  fatten  upon  us, 
and  are  not  Americans." 

Now  I  am  sure  that  we  will  not  go  on  for- 
ever permitting  the  Hun  sympathizers  to 
launch  their  Red  Rhetoric  at  the  United 
States,  and  then  punish  them  by  giving  them 
a  nice  place  to  sleep  and  plenty  to  eat  in  the 
internment  stockades  at  the  expense  of  our 
loyal  people.  When  agitators  have  defied 
American  public  opinion  too  far,  American 
sentiment  will  kill  them  like  the  lightning  and 
wreck  them  like  the  tempest. 

Our  splendid  American  boys  who  have  gone 
to  the  front  and  who  are  going  to  the  front, — 
God  has  endowed  them  with  the  Faith  that  is 
vital,  the  Faith  that  throbs  with  life,  the  Faith 
that  will  cast  the  mountains  into  the  sea.  We 
are  proud  of  them.  We  believe  in  them.  We 
glory  in  them. 

But,  too,  we  are  proud  of  the  men  of  Europe 
who  are  our  associates  in  this  war.  We  are 
proud  of  the  Italians  fighting  on  the  frozen 
heights,  fighting  in  the  snow.  We  are  proud 
of  the  British. 

10 


Some  persons  used  to  say  sneeringly,  "The 
British  do  not  fight;  they  get  everybody  else 
to  do  their  fighting."  But,  looking  at  Sir 
Douglas  Haig  and  his  magnificent  Britons 
standing  with  their  backs  to  the  wall,  aided  by 
Canadians  and  Australians  and  South  Africans 
and  New  Zealanders ; — looking  at  the  Scottish 
regiments  from  the  hills,  whom  the  Huns  call 
the  "Ladies  from  Hell,"  on  account  of  their 
kilts, — we  feel  that  the  British  are  bone  of  our 
bone  and  flesh  of  our  flesh,  and  worthy  of  ev- 
ery tribute  our  lips  can  speak. 

And  the  French!  Mr.  Harvey  in  his  "War 
Weekly"  says:  "France  scarcely  speaks.  She' 
is  too  busy  fighting!" 

"France,  that  divine  marvel,  mystery,  mir- 
acle among  the  nations, — France,  the  voluble, 
the  volatile,  the  mercurial,  the  capricious, — 
France  gives  no  sign  of  her  martyrized  dis- 
tress." 

"Bleeding  at  every  pore,  burdened  beyond 
all  credence  of  endurance,  she  sets  her  face  as 
a  flint  and  her  heart  as  adamant,  and  has  no 
word  of  complaint,  no  word  of  repining,  no 
word  of  reproach, — no  word  save  the  grim 
growl  beneath  her  sobbing  breath:  "They 
shall  not  pass !"  These  are  the  men  out  of  the 
nations  that  with  the  help  of  American  boys 
will  remove  the  mountain. 

We,  as  Americans,  do  not  want  to  take  from 
the  Hun  anything  that  of  right  belongs  to  the 
Hun.  We  do  not  want  his  house,  nor  his  wife, 
nor  his  man-servant,  nor  his  maid-servant,  nor 
his  ox,  nor  his  ass,  nor  anything  that  is  his. 
But  we  want  decency.  We  want  the  right  to 
live  righteously  and  justly  and  soberly  before 
God. 

We  want  to  chase  out  of  the  world  the  most 
11 


debased  being  who  ever  polluted  the  atmos- 
phere of  this  planet  by  inhaling  it. 

This  is  not  a  war.  It  is  a  tiger-hunt.  We 
are  striking  at  man-eating  tigers.  When  we 
have  destroyed  Prussianism  we  shall  have  de- 
stroyed the  most  direful  evil  in  all  human 
time.  Wasn't  it  Napoleon  Bonaparte  who 
used  to  say :  " Prussia  was  hatched  from  a 
cannon  ball?,' 

America  is  in  this  war.  She  dared  not  stand 
neutral  any  longer.  Maybe  she  stood  neu- 
tral too  long.  Assuredly  had  not  America 
put  her  hand  to  the  sword,  the  very  paving- 
stones  in  the  streets  would  have  cried  out 
against  her. 

Do  you  know  how  great  is  the  crisis  at  this 
moment?  Are  you  reading  the  books  that 
tell  you  the  truth  about  the  war?  Mr.  Curtin's 
book,  "The  Land  of  Deepening  Shadow/'  a 
terrible  and  pitiful  book,  shows  you  the  real 
Germany,  the  Germany  of  fact  and  not  of  fic- 
tion, the  Hun  with  his  mask  stripped  off, 
showing  him  as  he  is;  "The  Crime,',  one  of 
the  most  able  books  of  the  war,  written  by  a 
German,  against  Germany.  Only  the  first  vol- 
ume of  "The  Crime"  has  issued  from  the  press. 
A  second  volume  is  to  follow. 

"Private  Peet— Two  Years  in  Hell  and  Back 
With  a  Smile," — a  book  that  will  keep  you  up 
after  your  bedtime  hour. 

"German  Atrocities,"  by  Newell  Dwight 
Hillis,  a  book  that  will  send  your  blood  ham- 
mering through  your  veins  like  liquid  fire. 

Read  all  of  these  books  if  you  have  the  time, 
read  some  of  them  if  you  lose  a  few  hours  of 
sleep,  and  you  will  feel  that  the  Republican- 
ism of  America  is    needed    just    now  in    the 
12 


World  and  that  our  flag  with  its  Stars  and 
Stripes  needs  to  mingle  its  colors  with  the 
other  flags  of  World-freedom  to  remove  the 
mountain  of  tyranny  and  brutality  from  the 
earth  forever  and  forever. 

"There  is  something  in  our  Flag 

And  the  little  burnished  Eagle 
That  is  more  than  emblematic; 

Something  glorious  and  regal. 
If  that  flag  goes  down  to  ruin, 

Time  will  then,  without  a  warning, 
Turn  the  dial  back  to  midnight, 

And  the  world  must  wait  till  morning.,, 

Our  church  is  one  out  of  three  hundred 
churches  in  Los  Angeles  which  has  been  asked 
to  hold  a  patriotic  service  either  at  the  hour 
of  morning  or  of  evening  worship.  Three 
hundred  ministers  in  Los  Angeles  are  sup- 
posed to  be  standing  up  in  their  pulpits  today 
and  making  a  drive  for  Liberty  Bonds.  It  has 
been  found  necessary  to  help  to  awaken  the 
people  through  appeals  from  the  platform. 

There  are  persons  in  our  city  who  cannot 
subscribe  for  Liberty  Bonds, — invalids  who 
are  unable  to  win  their  daily  bread;  aged  per* 
sons  who  are  living  on  an  annuity  that  is  so 
narrow  that  they  are  next  door  to  want;  per* 
sons  whose  occupation  is  taken  from  them  by 
the  stoppage  of  work  in  their  departments. 
But  there  are  persons  who  fail  to  contribute 
from  sheer  indifference;  some  who  fail  be- 
cause of  the  insane  love  of  money;  some  who 
fail  because  they  see  in  such  a  contribution  a 
great  sacrifice. 

Sacrifice?  What  do  you  call  a  sacrifice? 
What  have  they  given,  those  fifty-eight  be- 
loved  boys,   whose   stars  are  on   our  Service 

13 


Flag?  They  have  offered  their  lives  as  a  sac- 
rifice. For  us,  for  the  saving  of  our  nation, 
they  will  march  undaunted  into  the  roaring 
red  flame  of  war! 

Sacrifice?  What  do  you  call  a  sacrifice? 
What  have  their  dear  ones  given  who  have 
seen  these  boys  march  away  in  their  beautiful 
young  manhood — appointed  to  death  in  the 
Great  Finger  beckon? 

Do  we  who  have  given  only  money,  who 
have  even  given  largely  of  money,  do  we  re- 
alize what  is  meant  by  sacrifice? 

If  you  were  in  England  today,  sir,  you 
would  not  be  asked  to  buy  a  Liberty  Bond. 
Thirty  per  cent  of  your  income  would  be 
taken  out  of  your  hand  in  war  tax — thirty  dol- 
lars out  of  every  one  hundred  dollars  of  in- 
come; with  an  income  of  two  thousand  dol- 
lars your  tax  bill  would  be  six  hundred  dol- 
lars. England  would  not  ask  you  for  it.  Eng- 
land would  take  it  and  not  say  "thank  you." 
That  may  come  to  pass  in  the  United  States. 
Our  Government  has  the  right  to  compel  us- 
to  give. 

They  told  me  at  Liberty  Loan  headquar 
ters  yeterday  of  a  calculation  made  by  Mr. 
Leslie  Henry,  one  of  the  speakers.  He  fig- 
ured it  out  that  if  a  man  of  substance  is  ac- 
customed to  getting  seven  per  cent  on  his  in- 
vestments, he  receives  seventy  dollars  on  the 
investment  of  one  thousand  dollars.  In  buy- 
ing four  and  one-quarter  per  cent  Liberty 
Bonds,  he  loses  $27.50  on  each  one  thousand 
dollars  he  withdraws  from  a  seven  per  cent 
investment. 

Now,  consider  the  enlisted  boy.  The  aver- 
age monthly  earnings  of  the  boy  of  war  age 

14 


is  $65.00.  The  boy  enlists  for  thirty  dollars 
per  month.  He  gives  to  the  Government  thir- 
ty-five dollars  per  month,  besides  risking  his 
life.  That  is  four  hundred  and  twenty  dollars 
per  year  given  to  the  Government  by  the  boy. 
It  would  be  necessary  for  the  man  of  sub- 
stance to  buy  fourteen  thousand  dollars  worth 
of  Liberty  Bonds  before  he  has  equaled  the 
money  gift  of  every  enlisted  boy,  besides  the 
fact,  that,  as  Mr.  Henry  phrased  it,  "He  saves 
his  hide  by  staying  at  home." 

I  wish  you  could  understand  that  we  are 
not  giving  when  we  buy  Liberty  Bonds;  we 
are  making  a  loan  to  our  Government.  We 
still  have  the  money  after  we  buy  the  Bond, 
and  the  Government  pays  us  for  the  use  of  it. 
Here  is  a  tin  box  with  a  slot  in  it.  You  put 
one  hundred  dollars  through  the  slot,  and 
leave  it  alone  for  one  year.  Touch  a  button 
at  the  end  of  the  year  and  seventeen  twenty- 
five  cent  pieces  drop  out  into  your  hand — and 
you  still  have  your  original  one  hundred  dol- 
lars while  the  United  States  Government  has 
the  use  of  it. 

I  believe  in  this  war  as  a  Holy  War  be- 
cause we  are  battling  for  cleanness  and  de- 
cency and  the  sacred  rights  of  mankind.  The 
Lord  of  Hosts  is  with  us. 

No  one  can  tell  us  when  this  war  will  end. 
Former  President  Taft  said  a  week  ago:  "I 
am  in  favor  of  amending  the  draft  law  so  that 
we  can  raise  an  army  of  five  millions  of  men 
or  six  millions  of  men  in  two  years ;"  and  he 
added:  "We  won't  win  until  this  nation  is  a 
house  of  mourning.  We  will  have  to  go  down 
into  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  but 
the  result  will  be  worth  the  cost." 

15 


I  have  my  own  convictions  that  we  are  des- 
tined to  win  this  war.  I  feel  certain  that  our 
own  soldier-boys  will  never  cease  their  on- 
ward drive  until  their  triumphal  cheers  ring 
and  echo  over  the  homes  and  castles  and  pal- 
aces and  cathedrals  of  Berlin,  and,  led  by  the 
martial  music  of  the  nations,  they  march  be- 
hind the  Stars  and  Stripes  and  the  other  Vic- 
tory banners  through  the  avenues  and  streets 
of  the  captured  city. 


Free  Tract   Society  Print, 
746  Crocker  St.,  Los  Angeles,  Cal.,  U.  S.  A. 


THORNS 


WILLIAM  H.  FISHBURN 


Thorns 


By 

Rev.  William  H.  Fishburn,  D.  D. 


A   Sermon  Delivered  in  West  Adams   Pres- 
byterian Church,  Los  Angeles  California, 
March  9,   1913 


THE  SECRET  THORN 


2  Cor.  12:7.  "There  was  given  to  me  a 
Thorn  in  the  flesh." 

Was  Paul's  experience  unique?  Was  he 
the  only  person  to  whom  God  ever  gave  a 
thorn  in  the  flesh? 

There  are  five  hundred  and  eighty-four  mil- 
lions of  grown-up  people  in  the  world  today, 
and  out  of  that  five  hundred  and  eighty-four 
millions  there  are  precisely  five  hundred  and 
eighty-four  millions  who  imagine  that  to  them 
has  been  given  a  thorn  in  the  flesh. 

The  delusion  of  many  persons  is  that  their 
particular  thorn  is  a  little  sharper,  penetrates  a 
little  deeper,  irritates  a  little  more  cruelly  than 
anybody  else's  thorn. 

For  a  good  many  centuries  students  wise 
and  students  foolish  have  been  trying  to  find 
out  what  was  Paul's  "Thorn  in  the  flesh." 
Whole  books  have  ibeen  written  to  analyze 
the  matter.  Good  scholarship  has  been  wasted 
over  the  discussion. 

We  do  not  know  what  Paul's  thorn  was. 
He  never  disclosed  to  anyone  what  it  was. 
It  was  a  Secret  thorn.  The  noble  thing  about 
it  was  that  he  made  it  a  Secret  thorn.  He 
covered  it  up.     He  concealed  it.     And  while 


"THORNS" 


he  never  could  forget  for  a  moment  the  hidden 
ache  of  It,  nobody  ever  heard  him  speak  of  it 
again.  This  one  reference  in  our  Scripture 
lesson  is  the  first  reference  and  the  last  he 
ever  makes  to  it. 

If  you  had  met  Paul  you  never  would  have 
suspected  that  he  carried  a  thorn  in  his  flesh. 
You  would  have  met  a  man  with  a  bright  and 
smiling  face,  a  veritable  "Glory-Face ;"  a  man 
whose  hand-grip  would  have  so  thrilled  you 
that  you  would  have  felt  that  a  new  inspira- 
tion was  entering  into  your  life. 

Paul's  Letters  are  always  full  of  joy,  full 
of  manliness,  full  of  music,  full  of  the  sweet 
Presence  of  Jesus  Christ,  full  of  good  cheer. 
He  never  wastes  any  time  telling  about  his 
thorn.  He  has  so  many  good  things  to  tell 
that  no  space  is  left  for  the  telling  of  the 
sinister  and  the  unpleasant.  Wherever  he 
preaches  he  preaches  good  news,  and  gladness, 
and  hope — but  he  never  preaches  about  his 
thorn. 

Brave  Paul !  Noble  soul  now  passed  into 
the  heavens !  Man  of  high  courage  who  could 
take  scourging  and  stoning  and  imprisonment 
without  one  whisper  of  remonstrance;  saintly 
man  who  could  walk  to  execution  with  a  song 
of  triumph  on  his  lip — how  do  I  honor  him ! 

He  had  his  thorn — it  wounded  him,  pierced 


"THORNS" 


him,  rended  him — ibut  he  kept  still  about  it. 
It  was  his  Secret  thorn ! 

You  are  aware  that  at  first  he  wanted  to 
be  delivered  from  the  thorn.  He  prayed  God 
to  take  it  away — p-rayed  once,  prayed  twice, 
prayed  thrice — but  the  thorn  remained.  Was 
his  prayer  answered?  It  was.  God  did  not 
take  the  thorn  away.  He  did  better  than 
that.  He  left  the  thorn  in  Paul's  flesh,  and 
gave  him  grace  to  bear  it. 

Without  prayer  that  thorn  would  have  been 
an  irritant;  after  the  prayer  it  became  a  stimu- 
lant. It  was  that  very  thorn  that  made  Paul 
the  majestic  man  he  was.  Had  there  been  no 
thorn  in  his  flesh  he  could  not  have  ascended 
to  the  heights.  His  thorn  humanized  him. 
The  thorn  directed  his  eyes  to  the  sublime 
vision  in  the  third  heaven ;  and  then  it  brought 
him  down  and  caused  him  to  mingle  with 
suffering  men  and  women  in  the  earth. 

All  of  us  have  our  moments  of  vision.  I 
suspect  that  there  is  not  one  of  us  who  has 
not  enjoyed  his  period  of  ecstasy.  We  rejoice 
over  the  vision.  We  want  the  vision  to  last 
always — but  it  does  not  last.  The  hours  of 
pain  come.  We  get  the  vision — but  we  get 
the  thorn  too.  We  lift  up  our  faces  to  God 
and  give  thanks  for  the  vision;  but  we  bow 
down  our  faces  and  protest  against  the  pain. 


"THORNS" 


If  we  could  have  it  as  we  wish  it,  life  would 
be  all  vision  and  no  thorn. 

Now,  let  us  try  to  understand  what  is  meant 
by  a  "thorn  in  the  flesh."  Your  little  annoy- 
ances, those  fribbles  of  life,  those  petty  vexa- 
tions that,  like  gnats,  disturb  you  for  a  mo- 
ment and  then  fly  away — they  are  not  to  be 
spoken  of  as  thorns  in  the  flesh. 

If  you  have  a  real,  material  thorn  in  your 
material  flesh  you  are  aware  of  it;  and, 
like  the  material  thorn,  this  unseen  thorn 
makes  itself  felt.  You  know  it  is  there.  You 
may  remove  the  mere  material  thorn  and  the 
wound  will  heal  over,  but  you  cannot  remove 
the  unseen  thorn.  It  is  something  that  will 
remain  with  you  as  long  as  you  dwell  in  the 
earth.  It  is  an  ineradicable  something,  a 
something  that  you  must  get  grace  from  your 
Lord  to  bear,  or  you  cannot  bear  it  at  all. 

It  is  a  sort  of  Nemesis.  It  pursues  you 
throughout  the  daytime ;  it  sits  on  your  pillow 
at  night;  it  haunts  your  dreams!  You  may 
keep  it  secret;  you  may  so  hide  it  that  no 
one  but  yourself  shall  be  aware  of  its  exist- 
ence— but  in  your  own  heart  you  shall  always 
feel  the  dead,  dull  pain  of  it.  That  is  what 
Paul  carried.  That  is  what  he  means  when 
he  speaks  of  a  "thorn  in  the  flesh." 

Many  there  be  who  nurse  the  trivial  hurts 


"THORNS'5 


of  life  and  call  them  thorns  in  the  flesh.  Per- 
sons who  have  never  had  a  big  thorn  are 
likely  to  discover  a  little  thorn,  a  spiritual  or 
mental  thistle,  and  to  magnify  it.  There  are 
multitudes  who  wish  to  be  looked  upon  as 
great  sufferers.  They  manufacture  troubles 
and  then  adopt  them  as  their  own  individual 
troubles.  They  weigh  the  food  they  eat  and 
measure  the  water  they  drink.  They  count 
their  pulse-beats.  They  hear  "death-bells." 
They  mark  the  number  of  persons  of  just 
their  own  age  who  die  suddenly.  They  walk 
softly  through  the  shadows.  They  deliber- 
ately choose  the  gloom  in  preference  to  the 
sunlight.  Like  King  Solomon's  pessimist  in 
the  Book  of  Ecclesiastes,  "they  say  of  laugh- 
ter, 'It  is  madness/  and  of  mirth,  'What  good 
is  it?'" 

Your  physician  calls  such  persons  malinger- 
ers. They  are  abnormal.  Their  diseases  are  al- 
ways "peculiar."  They  inform  you  that  they 
are  victims  of  a  malady  that  "nobody  under- 
stands." As  a  matter  of  fact  everybody  "un- 
derstands" them  better  than  they  think.  They 
are  melancholy  because  they  are  able  to  ex- 
tract a  sort  of  joy  out  of  melancholy.  As 
Mr.  Froude  used  to  say,  "They  could  discover 
no  pleasure  in  life  if  it  were  not  for  their 
miseries." 

If  you  have  read  MJr.  Thomas  Bailey  Al- 


"THORNS" 


cirich's  book,  "The  Stillwater  Tragedy/'  you 
are  acquainted  with  the  Reverend  Mr.  Lang- 
ley,  the  man  who  felt  that  it  was  undignified 
and  irreverent  to  smile.  Mr.  Aldrich  says  of 
him,  "If  he  had  gone  into  tree-culture  instead 
of  into  the  ministry,  he  would  have  planted 
nothing  but  weeping  willows." 

You  must  have  observed  that  the  men  and 
women  who  utter  the  most  vociferous  com- 
plaints are  not  the  ones  who  have  the  heaviest 
sorrows.  Those  whose  hearts  are  breaking 
with  an  imponderable  grief  are  usually  the 
Silent  ones. 

It  is  the  Unwounded  hand  that  is  lifted 
highest  in  rebellion  against  God ;  it  is  the  little 
sufferer,  not  the  great  sufferer,  who  most 
loudly  rehearses  his  woes.  The  hospital  sur- 
geon does  not  select  out  of  the  free  clinic 
for  first  attention  the  patients  who  make  the 
most  noise.  He  knows  better.  He  knows 
that  those  who  are  brought  in  pale  and  speech- 
less are  the  ones  who  need  immediate  care. 
The  noisy  ones  can  wait  until,  after  the  wounds 
of  the  silent  ones  are  dressed. 

Do  you  know  that  the  most  dangerous  exer- 
cise you  can  engage  in  is  to  fall  to  pitying 
yourself? 

Persons  who  pity  themselves  will  cherish 
the  memory  of  a  pin-prick,  while  those  who 


"THORNS" 


are  brave  will  button  their  coats  over  a  sword- 
thrust  and  go  resolutely  on. 

The  other  day  I  saw  at  Sixth  and  Spring 
streets  in  our  city  a  small  and  heavy-laden 
newsboy  on  roller'  skates.  He  was  coming 
along  swiftly,  stumbled  on  the  car-track,  and 
fell  with  a  crash,  cutting  his  face  and  skinning 
his  knuckles,  while  his  bundle  of  papers 
was  scattered.  In  a  moment  he  was  on  his 
feet,  had  collected  his  newspapers,  and  the 
next  moment  he  was  gliding  merrily  down 
Spring  street  on  his  roller  skates  as  if  nothing 
had  happened.  An  aged  man  leaning  on  a 
cane  was  looking  on,  and  he  turned  and  said 
to  me,  "If  that  had  happened  to  me  they  would 
have  hauled  me  away  in  an  ambulance. "  That 
boy  did  not  pity  himself.  He  accepted  the 
little  hurts  without  a  whimper. 

St.  Paul  never  pitied  himself.  He  passed 
his  troubles  iby  as  incidents,  only  incidents. 
He  did  not  brood  over  them.  Here  and  there 
in  his  Epistles  he  jests  about  his  sufferings. 
Once,  at  least,  he  makes  a  happy  pun  about 
his  failing  eyesight.  His  burdens  did  not 
crush  him ;  they  made  him.  When  his  heart 
was  heaviest  he  laughed  most.  That  verse 
in  Corinthians  which  is  translated,  "I  am  ex- 
ceeding joyful  in  all  our  tribulation,"  may 
be    rendered    this    way,    "I    overabound    with 


10  "THORNS" 


cheerfulness  at  all  our  tribulation."  When 
Paul  stood  in  the  sunshine  he  "overabounded 
with  cheerfulness."  When  they  thrust  him 
into  a  dark,  underground  dungeon  he  went 
right  on  "overa'bounding  with   cheerfulness." 

Many  a  little  trouble  rolls  away  if  we  make 
light  of  it.  But  little  troubles  grow  big  and 
grievous  if  we  brood  over  them.  We  ought 
to  talk  little  about  the  chagrins  and  the  dis- 
appointments of  life.  Minor  hurts  may  be 
transformed  into  major  hurts  by  telling  them 
over  and  over.  They  grow,  like  FalstafFs 
"seven  men  in  buckram."  The  tellers  of  the 
tale  become  obsessed  by  it. 

Many  persons  get  to  believing  that  they 
are  "all  run  down,"  when  the  thing  that  ails 
them  is  that  they  are  "all  wound  up,"  and 
will  not  be  silent  long  enough  to  let  them- 
selves run  down. 

We  can  laugh  some  of  the  paltry  ills  of 
life  away — even  some  of  the  larger  ills.  The 
guide  on  one  of  your  Sight-Seeing  Automobiles 
has  lost  the  index  finger  of  his  right  hand.  It 
is  noticeable,  and  a  tourist  asked  him  how 
he  lost  it.  "I  did  not  lose  it,"  he  replied,  4T 
have  just  worn  it  down  to  a  stump  pointing 
out  the  lovely  scenery."  Were  we  to  make 
light  of  some  of  our  adversities  they  would 
vanish,  and  we  should  remember  them  only 
as  dreams  that  have  passed  away. 


"THORNS"  11 


The  magnifying  of  the  little  disorders  of 
life  grows  to  be  a  habit  and  a  pernicious  habit, 
displeasing  to  God  and  eminently  disturbing 
to  wholesome  and  sane  men  and  women.  No- 
body desires  the  companionship  of  the  per- 
petual murmurer.  The  foundation  of  fault- 
finding is  a  morbid  desire  for  sympathy,  but 
its  end  .is  the  utter  extirpation  of  all  sympathy. 
Neurotics,  paranoeics,  who  imagine  them- 
selves to  be  martyrs  when  they  are  not  mar- 
tyrs are  amongst  the  pests  of  life  that  we  bear 
with  only  because  we  cannot  escape.  Was 
it  the  poet  Pindar,  or  was  it  another  of  the 
Greek  poets,  who  said,  "Speak  out  thy  woes 
once,  then  hold  thy  peace?" 

But  let  us  not  be  guilty  of  supposing  that 
there  are  no  real  hurts  from  which  men  and 
women  suffer,  hurts  that  cannot  be  laughed 
away,  hurts  that  will  go  on  hurting  in  spite 
of  all  our  cheerfulness  and  merriment.  My 
people,  there  are  real  burdens,  real  sorrows. 
There  are  real  thorns  in  the  flesh,  thorns  that 
go  so  deep  that  they  wound  the  soul. 

You  cannot  escape  from  them  by  denying 
the  existence  of  them,  as  some  unphilosophical 
persons  do.  Those  who  deny  the  existence 
of  all  pain  are  perhaps  the  most  poignant  suf- 
ferers, because  they  have  told  themselves 
what  Plato  used  to  call  "the  lie  to  the  soul." 


12  "THORNS" 


The  soul  knows  better.  The  soul  knows  that 
there  is  pain,  much  pain.  You  cannot  solve 
the  problem  of  pain  by  assuming  that  there  is 
no  problem  of  pain.  There  is  a  problem  of 
pain,  sirs,  and  it  is  the  one  problem  that 
emerges,  in  spite  of  a  shoddy  psychology,  into 
every  human  life. 

Paul  confessed  that  he  had  a  Secret  thorn. 
He  confessed  it,  and  then  covered  it  up,  hid 
it  forever  from  the  sight  of  his  fellowmen,  but 
he,  himself,  was  aware  of  its  presence. 

Thorns  have  been  iborne  in  Secret  by  many. 
Somewhere  there  is  an  old  German  Romance 
about  a  Hidden  Fetter.  1  remember  it  too 
obscurely  to  reproduce  it  fully,  but  it  is  some- 
what to  the  effect  that  an  aged  gentleman,  a 
man  above  eighty  years  old,  is  found  dead 
on  a  street  in  Berlin,  his  home  city.  He  is  a 
well-known  citizen,  a  man  of  affairs,  rich,  pros- 
perous, respected,  honored.  He  has  resided 
in  Berlin  for  fifty  years. 

But  after  he  is  dead  they  find  riveted  to 
his  ankle  an  iron  fetter  two  inches  broad  and 
half  an  inch  thick.  There  are  file-marks, 
showing  that  many  attempts  have  been  made 
to  remove  it.  The  link  that  used  to  hold  the 
chain-and-ball  has  been  filed  off — but  the  iron 
fetter  remains,  imbedded  in  the  flesh. 

The   people   talk   about   the   strange   affair. 


"THORNS"  13 


They  recall  what  they  know  of  the  history  of 
the  man  for  fifty  years,  eminent,  upright, 
scholarly,  clean  —  but  they  are  certain  that 
somewhere,  at  some  time,  that  man  was  a 
convict.  By  some  legal  process  that  iron 
fetter  was  fastened  there.  Whence  came  the 
man  to  Berlin  fifty  years  ago?  Who  was  he? 
Of  what  crime  was  he  adjudged  guilty?  These 
questions  are  never  answered.  The  man  had 
lived  an  irreproachable  life  in  their  midst  for 
half  a  century,  and  had  given  no  sign  that 
he  carried  a  brand — and  his  mystery  is  buried 
with  him  in  his  grave.  His  was  a  Secret 
thorn.     But  it  was  a  Thorn! 

In  Miss  Ellen  Glasgow's  "The  Deliverance'' 
you  remember  Christopher  Blake,  the  aristo- 
crat's son,  who  finds  the  family  fortune  gone, 
and  who  works  in  secrecy  for  fifteen  years 
as  a  laborer  on  the  estate  which  his  father 
once  owned;  works  in  secrecy  in  order  to 
hide  from  his  two  sisters  and  his  blind  mother 
any  knowledge  of  the  fact  that  they  are  re- 
duced to  poverty.  Blake's  after  character  is 
not  good,  but  his  fifteen  years  of  heroic  silence, 
his  patient  bearing  of  the  Secret  thorn,  throws 
a  halo  over  his  sins. 

Everybody  has  read  Charles  Lamb  and  en- 
joyed him.  Who  has  not  spent  hours  of  de- 
light over  Lamb's  "Essays  of  Elia,"  his  "Dis- 


14  "THORNS" 


sertation  Upon  Roast  Pig,"  his  monograph 
"On  Poor  Relations,"  his  "Chapter  on  Ears," 
his  disquisition  "On  the  Melancholy  of  Tail- 
ors"? They  abound  in  capital  good  sense 
and  overflow  with  a  subtle  humor  that  charms 
the  soul. 

But  Charles  Lamb  whose  productions  are 
so  full  of  wholesomeness  had  his  thorn  in 
the  flesh — a  drooling  father,  a  sister  at  times 
violently  insane,  for  whom  he  must  provide 
and  over  whom  he  must  exercise  guardianship 
— but  he  made  his  thorn  a  Secret  thorn.  He 
hid  its  irritation  in  the  silence  of  his  own  soul. 

My  people,  the  sweetest  music  that  blesses 
our  world  came  from  men  and  women  who 
had  learnt  to  suffer  in  silence  and  to  be  strong; 
the  literature  that  marches  most  majestically 
came  from  men  and  women  whose  hearts  were 
pierced  by  a  Secret  thorn. 

Why  did  Paul  have  his  thorn  in  the  flesh? 
Himself  tells  you  that  it  was  good  for  him. 
He  tells  you  that  he  learnt  to  \hcmk  God  for 
that  very  thorn.  It  brought  him  back  to  earth 
and  made  him  sympathetic  with  the  hurts  of 
other  men. 

An  angel  from  heaven  could  not  come  to 
our  earth  and  be  a  missionary  to  men.  Angels 
could  not  understand  us.  Why?  Because 
angels  have  never  suffered,  and  therefore  they 


"THORN'S"  IS 


could  not  feel  for  our  hurts.  He  who  will 
heal  the  hurts  of  others  must  have  been  hurt 
himself.  The  Apostle  says  of  our  Lord  Jesus: 
"We  have  not  an  High  Priest  which  cannot 
be  touched  with  the  feeling  of  our  infirmities, 
but  one  who  was  tried  in  all  points  as  we 
are." 

The  only  one  who  can  feel  for  man  is  a 
man;  the  only  man  who  can  feel  for  a  hurt 
man  is  a  hurt  man.  Jesus  can  heal  our  hurts 
because  He  was  hurt  Himself. 

The  Paul  of  the  Vision  would  have  been  out 
of  touch  with  humanity's  woes,  and  God  made 
him  the  Paul  of  the  Thorn  in  order  to  bring 
him  near  to  those  who  suffer. 

What  does  that  burdened  soul,  that  bur- 
dened soul  whose  life  has  been  one  long  trag- 
edy of  unremittent  suffering,  know  about  the 
joys  of  the  third  heaven?  He  wants  to  meet 
the  man  who  has  been  torn  and  pierced  by 
thorns — the  man  who  knows  what  suffering 
means! 

It  is  the  thorn-crown,  my  people,  the  thorn- 
crown  and  the  blood-drops  on  the  dear  head 
of  our  Master  that  endear  Him  to  thousands 
of  our  race.  In  the  face  of  the  Man  of  Sor- 
rows they  see  the  trouble-lines  and  the  grief- 
marks,  and  it  is  the  Face  they  yearn  for,  the 
Face  full  of  pity  and  of  love  for  men  and  worn- 


16  "THORNS" 


en  who  are  down.  God  be  praised  for  that 
tear-stained  face  and  that  thorn-wreathed  brow 
that  has  been  the  wounded  world's  one  Solace 
for  hundreds  of  years  and  will  be  the  wounded 
world's  Healing  for  all  the  ages  that  are  yet 
to  come. 

"Lest  I  should  be  exalted  above  measure, 
there  was  given  to  me  a  thorn  in  the 
flesh."  God  made  Paul  the  Man  of  the 
Thorn.  There  have  been  mystics  innumer- 
able, men  and  women  who  have  been  in  the 
third  heaven — our  shelves  are  getting  full  of 
their  books.  They  have  seen  and  heard  un- 
utterable things.  They  talk  about  heaven  as 
if  it  were  in  their  back  yard,  and  as  if  there 
were  no  more  troubles  in  the  world.  But 
Paul  did  not  permit  his  mysticism  to  make 
him  a  mere  dreamer.  He  did  not  remain  in 
the  third  heaven.  Had  he  done  so  his  name 
might  have  been  preserved  in  some  quaint  old 
book  as  the  Prince  of  the  Mystics — and  that 
would  be  all. 

But  Paul  was  more  than  a  mystic.  He  was 
a  man,  a  human  man,  a  man  who  took  his 
place  in  the  ranks  and  marched  footsore  and 
weary  along  with  the  Brotherhood  of  Sorrow 
— and  it  was  his  thorn  that  made  him  im- 
mortal. 

He  thanked  God  for  the  thorn.     So  should 


"THORNS"  17 


we,  sirs;  and  so  would  we,  could  we  see  the 
end  from  the  beginning.  Our  sorrows  do  not 
break  us — they  make  us.  That  which  wre 
shrink  from,  that  which  we  try  to  push  away 
from  us  with  shuddering  aversion,  oftentimes 
turns  out  to  be  a  rich  and  refined  blessing. 
It  is  by  way  of  the  Cross  that  we  find  the 
Crown.    Via  Crucis,  via  Lucis. 

Our  blessed  Lord  Jesus  shrank  from  the 
Purple  Cup  in  the  Gethsemane  Garden.  He 
besought  the  Father  not  to  press  that  cup  to 
His  lips;  but  He  said,  "Thy  will,  Thy  will  be 
done" — and  an  angel  came  and  comforted 
Him.  It  is  the  Jesus  who  drank  the  bitter 
cup,  who  bore  that  sorrow  so  sharp  that  "none 
of  the  ransomed  ever  knew"  how  terrible  it 
was,  who  is  the  world's  Saviour  on  account 
of  that  cup,  and  who  is  worshipped  by  men 
and  angels  because  He  drank  that  cup. 

It  is  not  as  the  Teacher,  it  is  not  as  the 
Miracle  Worker,  it  is  as  the  Supreme  Sufferer 
that  Jesus  reaches  and  saves*  lost  men  and 
lost  women,  men  and  women  who  otherwise 
would  go  stumbling  and  staggering  down  into 
the  pit.  They  may  not  comprehend  a  Teach- 
ing Christ,  but  they  do  comprehend  a  Suffer- 
ing Christ.  It  is  the  Christ  of  the  Thorns 
who  has  won  the  world's  heart. 

Your   sufferings  are  the  making  of  you  if 


18  "THORNS" 


your  eyes  were  but  open  to  see  it.  What 
you  blindly  call  the  harshness,  the  unpitying 
cruelty  of  God,  the  failure  to  answer  your 
prayers  in  the  way  you  want  them  answered, 
is  His  most  perfect  wisdom.  Your  sorrows 
bring  out  the  hidden  treasures  that  in  no  other 
way  could  be  brought  out. 

Travelers  to  Russia  are  shown  at  Sebastopol 
a  perennial  spring  of  crystal  water,  and  beside 
the  spring  a  marble  pillar  on  the  top  of  which 
rests  a  rusted  cannon-ball.  During  the  Cri- 
mean War  that  ball  came  over  Jthe  fortress 
walls,  tore  its  way  through  a  rose-garden  and 
opened  the  spring,  unknown  before,  which  has 
since  refreshed  the  thirst  of  thousands. 

And  so  from  the  gashes  of  what  you  call 
sorrow  and  misfortune  there  may  come  joys 
for  others.  Your  beautiful  rose-garden  may 
be  spoiled  for  a  moment,  but  the  rose-garden 
shall  be  built  up  again  around  the  bubbling 
spring. 

The  thorn  in  the  flesh  does  not  drive  us 
away  from)  God — it  brings  us  near  to  God. 
Little  sorrows,  little  worries  may  enrage  us 
and  make  us  impatient  with  God's  plans;  but 
the  great  sorrows,  the  sorrows  that  rend  our 
hearts,  the  thorns  that  pierce  to  the  dividing 
asunder  of  soul  and  spirit — these  bring  us  near 
to  God,  and  we  fall  on  our  knees  and  cry  to 
Him  out  of  the  depths. 


"THORNS"  19 


Adversity,  deep  adversity,  does  not  crush 
the  Christian's  hope  nor  drive  him  away  from 
the  Father;  hut  prosperity  sometimes  does 
drive  him  away.  It  is  not  the  man  with  the 
thorn  but  the  man  without  the  thorn  whose 
soul  is  in  peril.  In  high  prosperity  we  may 
grow  away  from  Christ  and  the  Church;  we 
may  be  intoxicated  with  the  deceitfulness  of 
riches  and  go  mad  in  our  lust  for  pleasure. 
Did  we  but  understand  it  we  should  pray, 
God,  send  me  the  thorn!  Pierce  me,  wound 
me,  smite  me — but  take  not  Thy  Holy  Spirit 
from  me! 

One  of  the  mysteries  about  the  thorn  that 
God  sends  is  that  it  always  seeks  a  vital  spot. 
It  touches  us  where  we  would  wish  to  be 
exempt.  It  thrusts  itself  into  the  most  sensi- 
tive place. 

The  San  Francisco  earthquake  struck  the 
vital  spot,  the  commercial  center  of  the  city, 
and  did  its  furious  will  upon  the  richest  and 
noblest  structures.  When  conflagrations  at- 
tack cities  they  seem  to  choose  out  with  a 
dreadful  prevision  the  costly  and  the  beautiful 
things. 

And  is  it  not  thus  that  the  thorns  enter 
into  men  and  women?  Dean  Swift,  that  tow- 
ering genius,  the  man  who  needed  a  clear 
mind,  was  stricken  in  his  mind.     Beethoven, 


20  'THORNS" 


the  world's  peerless  musical  master,  the  man 
who  needed  hearing  more  than  he  needed  any- 
thing else,  was  stricken  with  deafness. 

Milton,  the  student,  the  reader,  the  writer, 
the  man  that  needed  eyes,  was  smitten  blind. 
The  Italian  artist  that  needed  his  right  hand 
was  paralyzed  in  his  right  hand.  Cowper  and 
Goldsmith  and  Coleridge,  who  needed  to  be 
cheerful,  were  sunken  into  brooding  melan- 
choly. 

It  is  the  fact  that  the  thorn  pierces  that 
faculty  that  we  believe  we  need  the  most  that 
makes  it  seem  intolerable.  Beethoven  might 
have  got  along  without  eyesight,  Milton  with- 
out hearing — but  it  is  the  way  of  the  thorn 
to  enter  where  it  may  give  us  the  most  unrest 
and  to  rob  us  of  the  very  treasure  that  we 
would  surrender  last  of  all. 

You  have  your  thorn,  my  brother,  and  you, 
and  you,  and  you.  What  is  your  thorn?  May- 
be it  is  the  decay  of  your  health.  You  per- 
ceive day  by  day  that  you  can  bear  less  and 
less  when  you  need  to  bear  more  and  more. 

Maybe  you  are  held  in  the  clutches  of  debt, 
a  debt  that  you  can  see  no  way  of  discharging. 

Maybe  your  thorn  is  poverty,  poverty  that 
you  cannot  conceal.  The  thorn  of  Hard  Times 
is  a  thorn  that  hurts. 

Maybe-  you  had  hoarded  up  a  little  provision 


"THORNS"  21 


for  your  old  age  and  have  seen  your  savings 
all  swept  away,  swallowed  up  by  some  mis- 
adventure. 

Maybe  the  one  you  loved,  the  one  upon 
whom  you  leaned,  the  one  you  looked  to  and 
upon  whom  you  had  set  your  hopes  has  been 
called  out  of  your  family  circle  and  taken  up 
on  high. 

These  and  many  similar  sorrows  are  thorns 
in  the  flesh.  What  shall  you  do  with  them? 
How  shall  you  bear  them?  Do  what  Paul 
did.  Cast  yourself  at  God's  feet.  Pray!  May- 
be your  thorn  will  not  be  taken  away  if  you 
do  pray.  Maybe  it  is  not  best  that  it  shall 
be  taken  away. 

But  this  you  will  receive — you  will  receive 
grace  to  bear  your  thorn  and  to  go  out  and 
look  on  life  with  a  hopeful  face.  It  has  been 
done.  It  is  done  by  thousands  of  thorn- 
wounded  men  and  women.  How  many  sweet 
old  people  we  know — pierced  to  the  heart  with 
thorns — but  bearing  the  smart  in  silence  be- 
cause the  Christ  of  the  Thorn  is  teaching 
them.  Pray,  pray  for  the  grace  to  bear  thy 
thorn. 


22  "THORNS" 


"Where  the  rough  road  turns,  and  the  valley 

sweet 
Smiles  bright  with  its  balm  and  bloom, 
We'll  forget  the  thorns  that  have  pierced  the 

feet, 
And  the  nights  with  their  grief  and  gloom ; 
And  the   sky  will  smile,  and  the  stars  will 

beam, 
And  we'll  lay  us  down  in  the  light  to  dream. 

"We  shall  lay  us  down  in  the  bloom  and  light, 
With  a  prayer  and  a  tear  for  rest, 
As  tired  children  who  creep  at  night 
To  the  love  of  a  mother's  breast, — 
And  for  all  the  grief  of  the  stormy  past 
Rest  shall  be  sweeter  at  last!  at  last! 

"Sweeter  because  of  the  weary  way 
And  the  lonesome  night  and  long, 
While  the  darkness  turns  to  the  perfect  day 
With  its  splendor  of  light  and  song, — 
The  light  that  shall  cheer  us  and  bless  us 

and  love  us 
And  sprinkle  the  roses  of  heaven  above  us." 


When  Iron  Meets 
Steel 


±yi 


William  H.  Fishburn 


** 


"When  Iron  Meets  Steel" 


By 

Rev.  William  H.  Fishburn,  D.  D. 

A   Sermon  delivered  in  West  Adams  Presbyterian 

Church,  Los  Angeles,   California, 

February  2,  1913 


"When  Iron  Meets  Steel" 


Jeremiah,  15:12.    "Shall  common  iron  break 
the  Northern  iron  and  the  steel?" 


There  is  at  this  moment  a  standing  army 
of  four  hundred  thousand  big,  strong-armed 
men  working  in  the  Iron  Industries  of  the 
United  States. 

Some  are  digging  and  blasting  the  ore  out 
of  the  hills,  some  are  purifying  it,  refining  it; 
some  are  rolling  it  into  plates,  and  tubes,  and 
bars,  and  rails ;  others  are  converting  it  into 
a  thousand  things,  large  and  small,  that  are 
essential  to  your  every-day  comfort  and  mine. 

IRON — it  is  the  universal  metal ;  it  is  found 
in  every  country;  it  floats  suspended  in  the 
water  of  every  sea. 

IRON — it  cleaves  the  soil  for  the  seed  of 
the  sower;  it  sings  in  the  chorus  with  the 
song  of  the  reaper;  it  threshes  the  ripened 
grain,  it  winnows  it,  it  rolls  it  into  flour,  it 
holds  the  loaf  while  heat  turns  it  into  bread. 
On  a  stove  of  cast  iron  you  cook  your  meals 
in  vessels  of  iron. 


'WHEX    WON    MEETS   STEEL55 


IRON — it  weaves,  and  knits,  and  cuts  out, 
and  sews  together  your  garments. 

IRON — it  protects  your  treasures  in  strong 
vaults;  it  locks  and  unlocks  your  door;  it  se- 
cures the  floor  under  your  foot,  and  the  ceil- 
ing over  your  head. 

IRON — it  provides  the  smooth  pathway  for 
your  railway  trains;  it  covers  your  merchant- 
ships  and  your  battleships;  it  sounds  in  every 
hammer  stroke;  it  throbs  in  your  mills  and 
machine-shops;  it  rumbles  in  your  wheels; 
it  roars  in  your  steam-engines ;  it  whirls  in 
your  dynamos;  it  thunders  in  your  printing- 
presses. 

IRON — you  eat  it  in  your  food,  and  drink 
it  in  your  drink,  and  it  beats  in  every  drop 
of  your  blood.    IRON. 

Somebody  says  there  is  iron  enough  in  the 
world  to  cover  our  globe,  landsurface,  water- 
surface  and  all  from  pole  to  pole  with  a  plate 
of  the  metal  twenty-two  inches  thick.  It  is 
an  unofficial  statement,  one  of  those  hap- 
hazard guesses  we  frequently  hear  uttered, 
but  I  should  not  doubt  it  if  it  were  said  that 
there  is  enough  of  it  to  cover  this  planet  with 
a  shell  of  iron  twenty-two  feet  thick,  or  twen- 
ty-two miles  thick. 

Iron  as  rude  nature  produces  it  has  no  com- 
mercial value,  and  if  man  were  to  leave  iron 


"WHEN   IRON   MEETS   STEEL" 


in  its  "state  of  nature"  it  would  be  worse  than 
a  worthless  thing,  it  would  be  an  encumbrance, 
a  hindrance,  a  nuisance. 

When  early  man,  ages  ago,  found  a  hill  of 
iron,  he  went  away  from  it.  The  land  it  oc- 
cupied was  sterile,  dead,  without  grass,  or  tree 
or  flower.  The  very  birds  flew  over  it,  and 
flew  past,  seeking  a  more  hospitable  resting 
place  for  their  feet. 

For  many  a  century,  for  many  an  age,  these 
great  hills  of  rusty  iron  did  nothing  but  cum- 
ber the  ground.  And  then  there  came  a  time, 
we  know  not  when;  there  came  a  man,  we 
know  not  who — it  is  possible  that  his  name 
was  Tubal-Cain — and  the  secret  of  the  ages 
was  unlocked,  Iron  was  taken  out  of  the  hills, 
put  through  the  fire,  molded  and  beaten  into 
swords  and  spears,  into  plow-shares  and  prun- 
ing-hooks,  and  the  long  Stone  Age  came  to  an 
end,  and  the  Iron  Age  began. 

Hills  of  iron  that  formerly  were  an  obstruc- 
tion and  a  vexation  were  turned  into  a  treas- 
ure, a  prize. 

Last  year,  in  the  United  States,  there  were 
taken  out  of  our  iron  mines  ninety-eight  mil- 
lion dollars  worth  of  ore;  but  after  men  had 
smelted  it,  and  refined  it,  and  added  brain  and 
muscle  and  sweat  to  it,  it  became  worth  two 
billion  and  eighty-three  million  dollars. 


"WHEN   IRON    MEETS    STEEL" 


In  other  words,  every  mass  of  ore  that  was 
worth  one  dollar  in  the  rough,  became  worth 
twenty-one  dollars  after  it  had  passed  through 
the  refining  and  purifying  and  manufacturing 
processes. 

Nearly  everybody  who  has  traveled  has 
visited  an  iron  blast-furnace  and  a  steel  plant. 
Steel  is  a  perfect  alloy  of  iron  and  carbon;  it 
is  a  compound  of  iron  that  has  been  roasted  in 
a  temperature  of  2780  degrees,  Fahrenheit,  and 
afterwards  melted  and  boiled  in  a  retort  heated 
to  4000  degrees. 

The  finest  steel  is  made  from  wrought  iron 
that  has  been  purified  again  and  again  in  the 
hot  fire.  After  the  bad  alloys  have  been  burnt 
out  of  the  ore,  and  the  proper  alloys  have 
been  added,  steel,  hardened  steel,  becomes  the 
hardest  and  the  most  useful  of  metals. 

Common  iron  has  been  almost  driven  out 
of  the  market  by  the  cheapening  of  steel-mak- 
ing processes,  like  the  Bessemer  method. 

Our  Heavenly  Father  has  taught  man  to 
take  the  comparatively  worthless,  to  pass  it 
through  the  flame  of  a  cruel  furnace,  and  to 
turn  it  into  the  worthy  and  the  useful. 

"Shall  the  common  iron  break  the  Northern 
iron  and  the  steel?"  This  text  gave  trouble 
to  a  former  generation  of  Biblical  interpre- 
ters.   If  you  will  look  into  your  commentaries 


"WHEN   IRON    MEETS   STEEL" 


you  will  learn  that  even  modern  interpreters 
are  troubled  about  it.  Indeed,  if  you  will  look 
into  your  Revised  version  you  will  discover 
that  these  latest  students  substituted  the  word 
"brass"  for  the  word  "steel,"  and  so  turned 
the  passage  into  a  tangle  that  it  ceases  to 
have  any  meaning  at  all. 

The  impression  prevails  amongst  many 
learned  persons  that  our  remote  ancestors  had 
no  sense;  and  that  they  did  not  know  how  to 
do  complex  things  such  as  turning  iron  into 
steel.  The  ancients  had  sense,  much  sense, 
and  they  were  able  to  do  some  astonishing 
things  in  their  crude  and  primitive  way. 

Mr.  Wendell  Phillips  in  his  lecture  on  The 
Lost  Arts  used  to  love  to  quote  from  Sir  Wal- 
ter Scott's  Talisman  the  story  of  the  meetmg 
of  Richard  Lion  Heart  with  Saladin,  to  show 
that  the  ancients  did  know  how  to  temper 
steel. 

In  the  Talisman,  Saladin  requests  Richard 
to  show  the  strength  of  his  sword-arm,  and 
the  cleaving  power  of  his  sword,  and  Richard 
lays  down  the  handle  of  an  iron  mace  "an  inch- 
and-a-half  thick,"  and  with  one  blow  of  his 
broadsword  severs  it  into  two  pieces. 

Saladin  looks  on,  and  says :  "I  cannot  do 
that  with  my  sword."  But  he  takes  from  the 
floor  of  the  tent  "a  cushion  of  silk  and  down, 


"WHEN   IRON   MEETS   STEEL" 


and  drawing  his  keen  blade  across  it,  it  falls 
into  two  pieces." 

"That  is  black  art,  it  is  magic,"  says  Rich- 
ard, "you  cannot  cut  that  which  has  no  resis- 
tance." But  to  show  him  such  is  not  the 
case,  Saladin  takes  a  scarf  from  his  shoulders, 
which  is  so  light  that  it  almost  floats  in  the 
air,  and,  tossing  it  up,  severs  it  before  it  can 
descend." 

Mr.  George  Thompson  told  Mr.  Phillips 
that  he  "saw  a  man  in  Calcutta  throw  a  hand- 
ful of  floss  silk  in  the  air,  and  a  Hindu  sever 
it  into  pieces  with  his  sabre." 

In  speaking  of  the  marvelous  Damascus 
Blades  of  ancient  times,  the  lecturer  used  to 
tell  that  "there  was  a  Damascus  Blade  at  the 
London  Exhibition,  the  point  of  which  could 
be  made  to  touch  the  hilt,  and  it  could  be  put 
into  a  scabbard  like  a  corkscrew,  and  be  bent 
every  way  without  breaking,  like  an  Ameri- 
can politician." 

The  early  peoples  were  acquainted  with 
methods  of  manufacturing  steel,  and  the 
Prophet  Jeremiah  may,  at  some  time,  )  ave 
held  one  of  these  perfect  sword  blades  in  his 
hand. 

What  he  is  trying  to  say  in  this  text,  and 
what  stumbling  interpreters  refuse  to  let  him 
say,  is,  that  common  iron  is  not  as  strong  as 


"WHEN   IRON   MEETS   STEEL" 


steel;  that  the  refined  metal  is  stronger  and 
better  than  the  unrefined  metal ;  and  he  means 
to  say  by  implication  that  the  man  who  has 
passed  through  the  fire  and  has  thereby  be- 
come Equipped,  is  more  than  the  equal  of  the 
unequipped  man. 

That,  I  believe,  is  what  Jeremiah  means  to 
say,  and  I  believe  it  is  worth  saying.  In  the 
preceding  verse,  if  you  will  read  the  Author- 
ized and  the  Revised  versions  side  by  side,  you 
will  learn  that  God  says  to  His  people:  "I 
will  make  thee  strong;  I  will  make  thee  fit." 

The  man  of  yesterday  was  not  as  skillful 
as  the  man  of  today — I  would  not  have  you 
imagine  that.  Our  day  is  better  than  any  yes- 
terday, and  tomorrow  will  be  better  than  to- 
day, because  God  is  back  of  all  growth  and 
progress.  But  it  is  only  fair  to  give  our  an- 
cestors the  credit  of  knowing  some  things, 
and  of  knowing  those  things  well. 

Human  nature  just  as  it  is  in  the  rough,  as 
you  find  it,  for  example,  in  the  Hottentot,  in 
the  Malayan,  in  the  Moro  of  the  Philippine 
Islands  is  poor  stuff,  coarse  stuff,  an  encum- 
brance to  the  land  it  lives  in.  It  is  ore — ore 
that  has  never  been  passed  through  the  fire. 

Human  nature  is  poor  stuff  until  after  God 
the  Father  rescues  it,  until  after  our  Lord 
Jesus  cleanses  it  and  purifies  it  by  an  infinite 


12  "WHEN   IRON    MEETS   STEEL" 


try  to  draw  away  and  escape.  God  puts  trials 
upon  us,  temptations  before  us;  he  loads  our 
backs  with  burdens;  He  does  it  in  order  to 
make  us  fit;  in  order  to  bring  out  the  good 
metal  that  is  in  us,  but  that  is  valueless  be- 
cause of  the  dross. 

God  forces  us  into  the  furnace.  It  is  for 
our  good,  and  He  does  not  heed  our  outcries 
or  our  protests.  If  you  refuse  to  step  into 
the  furnace  there  are  compelling  Hands,  un- 
seen Hands  that  will  thrust  you  in,  for  in 
you  must  go.  It  is  the  Divine  Father's  plan, 
and  you  must  pass  through  the  necessary 
purifying  and  refining  series  of  actions. 

Our  Lord  Jesus  passed  through  the  furnace. 
He  was  purified  and  tempered  steel;  but  even 
His  human  nature  had  to  be  refined  in  order 
to  resist  the  onslaught  of  trouble  and  tempta- 
tion. An  Apostle  says  of  Him :  "He  learned 
obedience  by  the  things  which  He  suffered. " 

Consider  the  Refining  Plants.  Our  world  is 
full  of  them.  Our  churches,  our  colleges,  our 
schools,  our  business  life,  our  workshops — all 
of  them  are  Refining  Plants.  They  are  fit- 
ting us  for  something  better  than  we  can  sur- 
mise. 

To  be  sure  it  is  only  a  partial  refinement 
we  receive  in  some  of  these  plants.  Our 
churches  could  do  more  for  us,  and  better.  Our 


"WHEN   IRON   MEETS   STEEL"  13 


business  life  and  our  workshop  life  could  be 
vastly  improved.  Our  schools  could  be  of 
more  value. 

How  many  useless  things  we  are  taught  in 
our  schools.  I  am  an  admirer  of  these  refining 
plants,  the  Public  Schools  which  offer  at  least 
the  rudiments  of  an  education  to  everybody. 
But  I  do  wish  our  Public  Schools  would  stop 
trying  to  give  the  child  a  smattering  of  every- 
thing and  a  solid  grounding  in  nothing. 

Our  educational  institutions  should  make 
every  healthy  child  proficient  in  some  one 
thing,  really  proficient.  Every  child  should 
leave  school  knowing  at  least  one  thing  well. 

Two  years  in  Shorthand — and  Shorthand 
ought  to  be  taught  in  every  public  school — ■ 
two  years  in  Shorthand  would  be  of  incalcu- 
ably  more  worth  to  most  scholars  in  after 
life  than  two  years  in  French,  which  just 
teacher  them  enough  about  that  language  to 
make  them  keep  their  mouths  shut  when  any- 
body speaks  it  in  their  hearing.  When  there 
are  so  many  useful  things  that  ought  to  be 
known  it  is  wicked  to  occupy  the  young  years 
of  life  with  learning  the  unuseful  things. 

I  am  afraid  the  children  are  receiving  just 
now  lessons  along  some  lines  wherein  it  would 
be  quite  as  well  to  leave  them  uninstructed. 
They    know     some    things  without  teaching. 


14  "WHEN    IRON    MEETS   STEEL" 


Some  of  the  instruction  given  to  the  child  is 
probably  about  as  much  worth  while  as  teach- 
ing a  squirrel  to  climb  trees,  or  giving  swim- 
ming lessons  to  a  sunfish.  The  children  know 
some  things  without  teaching. 

Real,  practical,  worth  while  education  means 
the  taking  of  the  iron  ore  and  turning  it  into 
tempered  and  useful  steel;  and  the  education 
that  fails  to  do  that  has  sadly  missed  its  mark. 

Every  book  and  magazine  and  public  print 
that  comes  to  you  tells  you  of  the  world's  un- 
rest. The  world  has  always  been  in  unrest. 
There  have  always  been  protests  against  the 
hardness  of  conditions. 

If  I  were  asked  for  an  opinion  I  should  say 
that  the  conditions  of  living  in  this  world  are 
not  going  to  become  easier  as  time  runs  on, 
but  that  they  are  going  to  become  harder. 
Just  as  the  metallurgists  are  year  after  year 
making  better  steel,  demanding  more  and 
more  perfection  in  the  quality  of  steel,  so, 
generation  after  generation,  God  is  demand- 
ing better  and  better  men,  and  is  laying  heav- 
ier and  more  exacting  tasks  upon  them.  We 
have  not  time  to  refer  to  this  fact  at  length, 
but  you  can  see  it  in  every  section  of  human 
effort  if  you  will  take  the  trouble  to  look. 
We  are  asking  day  after  day  for  better  and 
better  equipment  amongst  men. 


"WHEN   IRON   MEETS   STEEL"  15 


And  the  noisy  outcry  against  existing  condi- 
tions comes  from  the  men  who  are  only  com- 
mon iron,  and  know  it,  and  know  that  they 
cannot  face  the  hardened  steel  of  competition 
and  exactness  and  faithfulness.  For  some 
reason  they  are  unequipped  to  accept  the 
gage  of  twentieth  century  battle.  "Shall 
common  iron  break  the  Northern  iron  and 
steel  ?"  No ;  it  cannot ;  but  the  remedy  for  that 
is  not  to  turn  the  whole  world  back  again  to 
iron;  the  remedy  is  to  put  the  unequipped 
and  unprepared  man  into  the  furnace,  and 
turn  him  into  tempered  steel.  That  is  God's 
way. 

The  tomorrow  of  time  will  not  see  all  men 
gone  backward  into  iron  ore;  it  will  see  all 
men  gone  forward  into  hardened  and  superior 
steel.  You  cannot  set  back  the  hands  on  God's 
clock  of  progress  with  your  thin  fingers. 

Competition  is  a  much  misunderstood  thing. 
Competition  is  God's  agency  for  compelling 
the  world  to  grow.  Take  all  competition  out 
of  the  world  and  the  wheels  would  not  only 
slow  down;  they  would  stop  and  not  start 
again  forever;  and  mills  and  factories  would 
rot  down  to  their  foundation  stones.  Take 
away  the  machinist's  desire  to  make  a  better 
machine;  the  carpenter's  desire  to  make  a 
truer  joint;  the  inventor's  desire  to  devise  a 


16  "WHEN   IRON    MEETS   STEEL" 


better  instrument;  the  jurist's  desire  to  dis- 
cover a  more  equitable  law;  the  doctor's  de- 
sire to  find  a  surer  remedy;  the  capitalist's 
desire  to  develop  a  more  rational  monetary 
standard — in  short,  take  away  from  man  the 
desire  to  be  better,  to  excel,  and  the  world 
would  go  back  to  prehistoric  savagery  again. 
God  makes  us  want  to  be  the  best.  He  makes 
the  common  iron  envy  the  steel,  and  want  to 
be  steel.  That  is  God's  way  to  push  men 
upward,  to  drive  men  upward  into  His  image. 

The  promise  to  make  the  world  over,  to 
make  it  easy  to  live  in,  to  make  common  iron 
as  good  as  steel,  is  a  noisy  and  impudent 
humbug.  We  are  not  to  run  away  from  God's 
furnace.  We  are  to  enter  that  furnace  with 
a  prayer,  to  bear  the  heat  of  it  with  the  best 
patience  we  can  summon,  and  then  to  come 
out  of  it  Tempered  Steel,  fitted  for  the  service 
of  God  and  for  the  service  of  man.  And 
those  who  vituperate  against  the  hardness  of 
the  life  that  now  is,  and  refuse  to  meet  the 
conditions  of  life  as  they  are,  will  be  broken 
by  those  conditions  and  thrown  by  them  into 
the  scrap-heap.  The  sword  of  soft  iron  has 
always  been  hewn  into  pieces  by  the  sword 
of  Northern  steel,  and  it  is  always  going  to 
be. 

My  brother,  do  not  demand  that  everybody 


"WHEN   IRON   MEETS   STEEL"  17 


else  turn  back  to  iron,  but  do  thou  become 
steel.  Pray  God,  if  need  be,  to  cast  thee  into 
His  roaring  furnace,  only  so  that  thou  come 
forth  as  steel.  Then  shalt  thou  be  able  to 
take  thy  place  amongst  the  strongest  men, 
and  to  live  thy  life  joyfully,  though  hardly, 
in  this  great  Age  of  Ongoing. 

There  may  come  a  day,  I  believe  there  will 
come  a  day,  when  all  men  shall  be  on  a  com- 
mon level,  but  it  will  be  the  level  of  excel- 
lence, the  level  of  highest  efficiency;  it  will 
never  be  the  level  of  mediocrity,  or  of  infer- 
iority. 

We  hear  much  talk  about  Trusts.  There  do 
exist  such  things  as  Trusts,  and  some  of  these 
Trusts  are  malignant  and  injurious,  and  a 
method  will  be  devised  to  deprive  them  of  their 
power  to  hurt. 

But  there  can  never  be  such  a  thing  as  a 
Genius  trust,  or  a  Talent  trust,  or  an  Ex- 
cellency trust.  These  fields  are  open  to  all, 
and  they  can  never  be  closed  by  any  combina- 
tion. 

An  effort  is  making  in  some  of  the  States 
to  lower  the  standards  of  efficiency  in  profes- 
sions like  the  Law,  Medicine,  Architecture, 
and  so  on.  There  is  a  feeling  that  the  few 
have  captured  these  professions,  and  have 
crowded  out  the  many.       And  the  demand  is 


18  "WHEN   IRON    MEETS   STEEL" 


made  that,  without  examination  or  qualifica- 
tion, anybody  and  everybody  shall  be  admitted 
to  these  professions. 

The  lesson  may  be  a  costly  one,  but  the 
world  will  learn  its  lesson.  The  law  of  effi- 
ciency will  be  applied  to  the  common  iron 
when  it  meets  tempered  steel.  Persons  of  in- 
telligence will  not,  a  second  time,  employ  as 
an  architect  an  agent  who  cannot  tell  the 
difference  between  a  Babylonian  Temple  and 
a  bee-hive.  They  will  not,  a  second  time,  en- 
gage as  a  barrister  one  who  confounds  the 
works  of  expounders  of  the  law  with  the  works 
of  Romanticists.  They  will  not  choose,  more 
than  once,  as  a  physician,  a  man  who  does 
not  know  the  chemical  difference  between 
Strychnine  and  strawberries.  Efficiency  will 
safeguard  the  people.  Competition  will  step  in, 
and  the  unequipped  man  will  go  to  the  wall. 

Attempt  not,  sirs,  to  degrade  steel  to  the 
standard  of  iron;  but  bring  iron  up,  by  much 
burning  and  refining,  to  the  standard  of  steel. 

Now,  you  must  not  infer  that  none  but  the 
poor  are  protesting  against  God's  furnace- 
heat.  The  rich  are  protesting  too.  They, 
too,  are  trying  to  escape.  They,  too,  are  run- 
ning away  from  the  flame. 

You  are  aware  that  those  who  play  golf 
have  Caddies  to  carry  the  burdens  while  they, 


"WHEN   IRON   MEETS   STEEL"  19 


themselves,  do  nothing  but  play.  In  the  big, 
stern  game  of  life,  how  many  of  the  rich  are 
seeking  for  Caddies  upon  whom  they  may  lay 
the  loads  of  care,  while  they  take  the  joy 
without  the  toil.  But,  my  people,  life  is  not 
all  fun;  it  is  not  a  game  in  which  you  can 
hire  some  one  to  bear  the  loads  and  run  after 
the  missing  balls,  while  you  make  the  drives 
and  have  all  the  sport.  In  real  life  you,  your- 
self, must  step,  alive,  into  the  furnace,  and 
bear  the  incandescent  heat. 

It  is  not  to  the  mouthing  idler,  be  he  rich 
or  poor,  that  Jesus  comes  with  a  gift.  Jesus 
did  not  say,  "Come  unto  me  all  ye  who  are 
embittered  against  conditions,  and  I  will  give 
you  rest."  He  did  not  say,  "Come  unto  me  all 
ye  that  are  leading  luxurious  and  indolent 
lives,  all  ye  that  are  endeavoring  to  get  pleas- 
ure out  of  the  world  without  giving  anything 
for  it,  and  I  will  give  you  rest." 

But  He  did  say,  "Come  unto  me  all  ye  toil- 
ers, come  unto  me  all  ye  burden-bearers,  come 
unto  me  all  ye  anguished  ones,  and  I  will 
give  you  rest." 

Let  us  keep  it  in  our  minds  that  the  good 
forces  in  our  Father's  world  are  the  strong 
forces.  The  forces  of  evil  are  iron,  but  the 
forces  of  good  are  Northern  steel.  In  the 
long  run  the  good  will  vanquish  the  evil.    The 


20  "WHEN   IRON    MEETS   STEEL" 


Church  of  Jesus  is  sometimes  laughed  at. 
Modernism,  anarchism,  individualism  tell  us 
the  Church  is  about  to  disappear.  They  for- 
get that  iron  cannot  conquer  steel.  You  are 
told  sometimes  that  religion  is  losing  its  grip, 
that  unbelief  is  spreading,  that  atheism  in  all 
its  sombreness  is  coming.  "Shall  the  common 
iron  break  the  Norehtrn  iron  and  the  steel?" 
Shall  darkness  drive  back  the  light  when 
the  great  sun  comes  above  the  horizon?  Sirs, 
religion  will  not  die  today,  nor  tomorrow,  nor 
on  the  third  day. 

There  is  a  current  of  thought  and  feeling 
just  now  that  sets,  we  cannot  predict  to  what 
unknown  shore,  and  that  bears  with  it  the 
destinies  of  the  human  race ;  but  God  is  guid- 
ing it,  and  the  world  will  go  whither  He  guides 
it. 

Ironmasters  say  that  iron  is  Converted  into 
steel.  The  retort  where  the  heat  seethes  and 
burns  and  hisses  and  glows  with  a  flame 
whose  light  would  blind  you  is  called  a  Con- 
verter. You  may  smile  at  the  old-fashioned 
doctrine  of  Conversion  as  related  to  the  hu- 
man soul,  but  Conversion,  real  and  genuine, 
is  the  only  short  cut  to  efficiency  for  the  man 
who  is  iron  and  wants  to  become  steel. 

Simon  Peter  was  soft  iron  on  the  night  of 
the  Betrayal;  he  went  down  in  disgrace  be- 


"WHEN   IRON   MEETS   STEEL"  21 


fore  those  who  pointed  the  finger  at  him ; 
but  after  he  was  Converted,  after  the  Holy 
Spirit  entered  into  him,  he  was  tempered  steel. 
And  have  not  all  of  us  seen  poor  wrecks 
of  men,  men  whose  temptations  made  them 
slaves,  coming  to  Jesus  Christ  and  receiving 
His  purifying  touch,  and  standing  ever  af- 
terwards as  men  made  unconquerable  and 
strong? 

I  have  seen  broken,  trembling,  cowardly 
men,  in  the  City  Rescue  Missions,  going  down 
on  their  poor  knees  before  the  Lord  Jesus 
as  soft  iron,  as  iron  that  a  child's  hand  might 
have  twisted  out  of  shape,  and  receiving  tne 
Divine  Touch  in  Conversion,  and  rising  up  as 
tempered  steel,  to  stand  forever  after  in  their 
places  amongst  men.  I  believe  in  Conversion, 
because  I  have  witnessed  its  works. 

In  the  early  blast-furnaces  there  was  a  hol- 
low place  in  the  bottom,  into  which  the  molten 
metal  ran  when  it  had  attained  the  highest 
heat,  and  that  place  of  the  last  stroke  of  the 
heat  was  called  the  crucible.  You  can  trace 
the  word  Crucible  back  to  the  Latin  word 
for  the  Cross;  and  back  still  farther,  maybe, 
to  the  word  cruciatus,  crucio — torture,  ex- 
treme pain. 

And  so,  human  souls  must  descend  some- 


22  "WHEN   IRON   MEETS   STEEL" 


times   into   the   deepest   anguish,   before   they 
can  come  forth  purified  and  refined. 

My  people,  those  mysterious  trials  and  bur- 
dens and  sorrows  that  afflict  you  until  your 
soul  within  you  aches  with  the  fatigue  of  long- 
drawn  pain, — they  are  God's  processes  to  fit 
you  for  a  bigger  life  in  a  bigger  world  than 
this. 


XPdest  Bfcams 
flbresbvterian  Cburcb 

WLcst  H&ams  Street 
©ne*balf  blocft  west  of  Dermont  Avenue 

Phone  west  5448  %o&  Hngeies,  California 


REV.  WILLIAM  H.  FISHBURN,  D.D Phone  21598 

Residence,  2101  Bonsallo  Ave. 

Assistant    Pastor 

REV.  RICHARD  E.  STANTON 

Residence,  1048  West  Thirty-first  St Phone  23554 


SUNDA  Y  SERVICES 

9:30  a.m.  Sunday  School 

11:00  a.m.  Public  Worship 

11 :  00  A.  M.  Junior  Congregation 

6:30  p.m.  Intermediate  Christian  Endeavor 

6:30  p.m.  Senior  Christian  Endeavor 

7:45  p.m.  Public  Worship 

WEDNESDA  Y 

8:00  P.M.     Mid- Week  Meeting 


Financial  Clerk 

F.  L.  Lowe,  2664  South  Vermont  Avenue.        -        Phone  West  258 

Y.  P.  S.  C.  E.  —Presidents 

Senior— JOHN  SHAW 

Intermediates  —  Paul  Mattoon 

Junior—  Miss  Elsie  Hunter 

Caretakers 

Mr.  &  Mrs.  C.  L.  Jantz,  2116  Aubrey  St.     Phone  West  1067 


ORDER  OF  SERVICE 

SUNDAY,  riARCH  20,   1921 
)RNINQ 

delude— Marche  Solennelle Maillv 

)oxology 

nvocation 

rloria;  congregation  standing 

Responsive  Selection  No.  23 

lymn  34 

Jcripture  Lesson 

Chorus— The  Morn  of  Gladness Pike 

'rayer,  closing  with  the  Lord's  Prayer 

announcements 

Jonsecration  of  Offerings 

)ffering 

>olo — The  Palms Faure 

Mr.  Starck 
lymn  231 

iermon,  "The  Man  Who  Worked  the  Farm" 
lymn  348 
benediction 
*ostlude— March Gaul 

rENING 

delude— Marche  Solennelle ■  .  Gounod 

*rayer 
lymn  8 
Jcripture  Lesson 

iuartet— Softly  the  Silent      Sealy 

>rayer,  closing  with  the  Lord's  Prayer 

Announcements 

Consecration  of  Offerings 

)ffering 

iuartet— Art  Thou  Weary Schnecker 

lymn  164 

iermon,  "A  Gadarene  Madman" 

lymn  45 

benediction 

^stlude — Verset Batiste 


The  phone  for  the  church  notices  has  been  changed  from  West  6391 
West  5469. 

A  District  Announcement 

On  Saturday,  March  26,  from  3:00  to  6:00  p.m.,  at  the  Log  Cabin  Inn, 
*ner  Adams  and  Normandie,  there  will  be  a  tea,  entertainment  and 
»d  sale,  for  benefit  of  starving  children  of  Europe.  75c  includes  tea 
1  entertainment.     Come  and  bring  your  children  and  a  friend. 

The  Every  Member  Canvass 

Our  Every  Member  Canvass  for  Church  support  and  benevolences 
1  be  made  Sunday,  April  3.  Dr.  Stanton  has  charge  of  this  important 
rk.     Many  helpers  have  been  appointed.     Do  not  shirk,  but  take  up 

ir  nart  and  lpt.  ns  anrnass  everv  fnrmpr  vpar  in  nnr  histr>rv 


ANNOUNCEMENTS 


Sunday  School,  9:30  a.m. 

Parents  and  friends  of  our  Sunday  school  are  cordially  invited 
attend  the  special  Easter  service  at  9:30  o'clock  Easter  morning. 

Intermediate  C.  E.  party  next  Friday.  Everybody  of  high  sch< 
age  to  meet  at  church  at  7:15  p.m.,  March  25,  and  go  to  party  in  a  groi 

The  Senior  Y.  P.  S.  C.  E.  invites  all  young  people  to  their  eveni 
meeting  at  6:30  o'clock. 

Evening  Worship 

Dr.  Fishburn's  subject  this  evening  at  7:45  will  be  "A  Gadare 
Madman."  A  special  invitation  is  extended  to  YOU  to  be  present.  Y 
know  the  hymns.  They  are  the  old  hymns  your  mother  sang.  Splem 
Quartette  and  Chorus  Choir. 

Missionary  meeting  will  be  held  Tuesday,  March  22.  Please  coi 
in  time  for  the  opening  devotional  at  10:30  and  bring  some  favor 
article  of  food  for  lunch. 

New  Era  Committee 

Will  every  member  of  the  New  Era  Committee  meet  Dr.  Stanton 
Wednesday  evening  at  7  o'clock  in  the  chapel ;  one  hour  before  eveni 
service.     This  is  important. 

Easter  and  Passion  Week  Services 

Beginning  tomorrow  evening  there  will  be  Passion  Week  Services 
this  Church  every  evening  during  the  week  at  8  o'clock  except  Saturd; 
The  Organist  and  Mr.  Home  will  be  with  us  on  Wednesday  evenir 
The  Organist  and  entire  Quartette  will  be  here  on  Good  Friday  evenh 
On  all  the  evenings  we  expect  our  Volunteer  Choir  to  help  lead  the  singir 
The  subjects  on  the  different  evenings  will  be  : 
Monday,  8  p.m.,  "The  Great  Feast." 
Tuesday,  8  p.m.,  "The  Food  that  Nourishes/' 
Wednesday,  8  p.m.,  "The  Glory  in  His  Face." 
Thursday,  8  p.m.,  "The  Three  Crosses." 
Friday,  8  p.m.,  "His  Last  Words." 
Friday  evening  will  be  Preparatory  to  the  Lord's  Supper  which  v 
be  held  on  Easter  Sunday  morning. 

The  Session  will  meet  after  every  service  to  confer  with  any  w 
may  wish  to  join  the  Church. 

Let  every  Officer  of  the  Church,  every  member  of  the  Church,  and 
those  who  love  the  Lord  endeavor  to  attend  every  one  of  these  servic 
or  as  many  of  them  as  possible.     It  means  much  to  our  spiritual  growl 

Free  Dinner 

The  Ladies  of  the  Church  will  give  a  Free  Dinner  to  all  Members  a 
Contributors  to  the  Support  of  our  Church  on  Wednesday  evening,  Mai 
30th.  It  is  expected  that  all  who  take  dinner  will  remain  to  the  Anm 
Congregational  Meeting  which  begins  at  8  o'clock  the  same  evenir 
The  first  table  will  be  ready  at  6  o'clock. 

Annual  Reports 

Annual  Reports  of  all  Societies  and  Organizations  must  be  presenl 
at  the  Annual  Meeting-,   March  30th.     Please  prepare  these  so  that  t 


CHURCH  DIRECTORY 


Elders  Emeritus 
)J*NI  H.  F.  Norc^oss 

>relud 
)0xol(  Tne  Session 

nvoca  Meets  on  the  third  Monday  of  each  month,  at  8:00  P.M. 

rloria 

tespo  Dr»  Henry  Van  Bergen,  Clerk;  phone  West  6391 

IymniLLiAM  Miles,  Jr.  ,  Treas.  George  F.  Guy  C.  W.  Hardi 

Jcript  Thomas  M.  Tulloch       Harold  J.  Walker       M.  R.  Williams 

"horu         William  A.  Dean  Dr.  Charles  Wellington  Allen 

>raye    J-  c-  McCleary  Andrew  Ross  Thomas  H.  Dunk 

\nn™  The  Deacons 

Jonse( 

)fferi  A.  L.  Lakin,  President;  phone  74762 

;010__    Charles  M.  Dane  A.  0.  Wyatt  Clarence  Waltz 

ithur  Male  William  D.  Forrester  Jas.  Dudley  McLeoi 

Clarence  Hopkins  Gus  Beach 

H.  J.  Waldo  Neal  A.  Trowbridge 


lymn 

lermc 

ty™  The   Trustees 

wr  Harry  A.  Galbraith,  Chairman ;  phone  25190 

S.  William  Duffield  Frank  E.  Mattoon  H.  J.  Reesi 

rENI  Horace  H.  Mann  0.  Long 

>rejU(    F.  L.  Lowe,  Sec'y  and  Financial  Clerk  E.  L.  Hopkins 

*raye  Men's  Round  Table  Club 

?ymi*.  William  Duffield,  Pres.  John  Shaw,  Vice-Pres 

>cnPj  C.  W.  Hardy,  Secretary-Treasurer 

Juart 

*raye  Sunday -School 

^nnoi  Graded  Lessons  Meets  at  9 :  30  A. M. 

'onse  George  F.  Guy,  Superintendent ;  phone  74787 

)fferi.  j#  Sprenger,  Supt.  Young  People's  Division 

iuart       miss  Grace  Walker,  Supt.  Junior  Dept. 

lymi  Mrs.  Lewis  J.  Adams,  Supt.  Primary  Dept. 

>erm.  Mrs.  Ellen  Vance,  Supt.  Home  Dept. 

lymi  Miss  Louisa  Sprenger,  Supt.  Beginners'  Dept 

$ene< 

>ostli  Missionary  Society 

Meets  the  fourth  Tuesday  in  each  month,  at  10:30  a.m. 
Th<RS.  Ella  Noble,  President ;  phone  22549 
Wes  Mrs.  D.  W.  Doolittle,  Secretary ;  phone  22788 

Mrs.  Andrew  Ross,  Treasurer ;  phone  73042 

On  Pastor's  Aid  Society 

>ner  Meets  the  second  Tuesday  in  each  month,  at  10:30  a.m. 

'd  saRS.   H.  C.  Parrett,  President,  2217  Juliet  Street;   phone  West  676S 
1  ent       Mrs.  E.  D.  Mauser,  Secretary;  phone  West  1083 
Mrs.  C.  W.  Hardy,  Treasurer 

Ou  The  Ayude  Chapter,    Westminster  Guild 

1  be  Meets  the  second  Thursday  in  each  month,  at  6:30  P.M. 

rk.  Miss  Edyth  Allen,  President;  phone  20235 


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